Alleluia
by I Am Sweden
Summary: Upon losing their mothers in tragic divorce and a car wreck, Alfred, Lovino, and Matthew are raised by the three most unconventional fathers. Can they reunite their lost family, or further tear it apart? AU, COMPLETE!
1. Chapter 1

…**I need to stop having fun on Google Translate. About five times during this story, looking up minor French here and there, I started playing around with the enunciations of words in different languages. At least I know how to say "goodbye" in several languages now.**

**Anyways. This story is both my baby and the bane of my existence. Within three days of getting the idea, I had already planned the entire thing out, plot twists and everything. While I was SUPPOSED to be working on my thousands of other fics that desperately need to be updated.**

**And thus, I give you a beautiful little devil called Alleluia (which is French for Hallelujah). Please review!**

**Alleluia**

**Chapter 1-**

"S-Samantha? Are you alright?" Arthur asked upon being woken up by the sound of retching.

"Arthur Kirkland, I am going to kill you," his wife calmly responded from the bathroom. She emerged seconds later, eyes bloodshot and a frown hard on her face. But besides her soured appearance, Samantha was still just as beautiful as ever. She had pin-straight light brown hair to the middle of her back, brilliant blue eyes as deep as the ocean, and a face so breathtaking it almost choked Arthur if he looked to long. Actually, it was that very description of her that had won her as a girlfriend back in high school. But he wasn't about to bring that up, not with her tapping her bare foot, glaring down at him with eyes still very beautiful but now laced with inconceivable anger.

Arthur was a very confused man at- he stole a quick look to the alarm clock on his night stand- five o'clock in the morning. The Virginia sky was still dark, only the occasional airplane bringing forth light in the blanket of darkness. "Um… whatever do you mean, my darling Samantha?" That was good- _unleash your inner-gentleman, Kirkland_.

She caught on to his game in an instant- Arthur wasn't very surprised, seeing as how he tried to pull out the English gentleman in him at least twice a day. Samantha pointed back to the bathroom. "Sick. In the morning."

It was early, and Arthur was not very bright unless the sun was rightfully in the sky. "…Have you taken the stomach virus? I'll call the doctor the instant the office opens-"

"I'm pregnant, you bloody idiot!"

Oh.

_Oh_.

"What?" Arthur asked dully, just to make sure he wasn't dreaming some crazy nightmare. Samantha grabbed his hand and stuck it to her belly. "You know what's in here right now? The beginnings of a baby, Arthur Kirkland. Surely a man with a prestigious college degree like you should know that. Don't you dare yawn!"

Arthur obediently shut his mouth, swallowing the yawn. "A baby," she repeated. "A baby. I'm going to have a bloody baby!"

Usually, Arthur remembered, woman are elated with this fact. Samantha was the very opposite. He supposed she was just scared- after all, they had only been married for a few months now, and a baby certainly _was _a lot to take in. Especially at five in the morning. Arthur jumped out of bed, hastily wrapping his robe about him. "That's wonderful!" he burst, pulling Samantha into a hug. "I'll need to tell Mum and Auntie Mavis- your mother too, of course! What do you suppose the name will be? What do you even think it'll be?"

"Arthur!" she burst, snapping him out of his bubble of giddy happiness, reminding him that they were in a very heated conversation at five in the morning in their cramped apartment's even more cramped bedroom. "I don't _want _to have a baby."

At hearing this, he responded with the most intelligent reply he had ever given: "What?"

Samantha groaned in exasperation. "The _baby_! I don't want to have a _baby_! Do you know how much trouble one is? Oh, well you wouldn't know. It's fine and dandy for _you_ because you're _male _and don't have to put up with most awful _nine bloody months _you'll ever experience in your lifetime! Oh, I'm going to the doctor all right. I'm to have this thing bloody taken out of me!"

"No!" Arthur burst in horror. "No! You can't! It's a _person_, Sammy! It'll grow up to be big and tall like us one day!"

"Don't you 'Sammy' me, Arthur Kirkland! It's _my _wretched nine months, not yours."

"What's nine months compared to a lifetime, Samantha _Kirkland_? That baby is just as much mine as it is yours! I won't let you ruin a perfectly fine person!"

She slapped him. Arthur grabbed her wrist. "Listen to me, Samantha. Later on today, you'll feel different, I'm sure. You're just worried and tired right now. You're not of your right mind."

"Of course I'm worried and tired! And don't you dare ever again say I'm not of my right mind- I'm not loony, even now!" she sighed, sitting down on the bed with tears forming in her eyes. "Oh, wonderful. The mood swings are already taking effect, nasty buggers. I really hate you right now, Arthur."

"I still love you, Samantha."

"You'd better. Bloody Kirkland."

((((()))))

"Arthur, if there isn't a good reason as to why you are calling me so early, I will personally come to kill you where you stand."

"Francis, this is absolutely wonderful! Sammy's pregnant!"

The Frenchman on the other line suddenly choked- apparently the wrong time to be taking a sip of the coffee Jeanne had most likely just handed him. While Francis Bonnefoy enjoyed sleeping in as late as was humanly possible, his wife actually awoke the same time the rest of the human populace did. "_What_?"

"That's just what I said!" he chirped. Seated on the couch with a trash can conveniently nearby, Samantha cast him a dirty look before turning back to the morning news and her own cup of coffee.

"That's… that's nice," Francis stuttered. Arthur heard the phone shift to Jeanne, someone who would properly congratulate them.

"That's great, Arthur," her kind, even more heavily accented voice than Francis's voice gushed. Jeanne was honestly the last person Arthur would have ever guessed to fall in love with his old high school mate. She was everything Francis was not- prompt, empathetic, and with a decent way of thinking as opposed to his lazy, perverted self. She was even a Sunday school teacher at the church they attended every Sunday morning and evening. "Do you have any plans for the name yet?"

Actually, he already spent half the morning looking up names on the internet. "For a boy I like the name Alfred," he started. Samantha rolled her eyes, muttering something about him being like an ecstatic school boy. "I've not many names for a girl yet."

"Alfred sounds nice. I've always liked Matthew, but Francis says he likes the house the way it is without everything being child-proofed yet."

"Smart man, Francis is," Samantha noted, dejectedly turning the channel. Now Arthur rolled his eyes, still sure her sour mood would pass. He'd purposely put the phone on speaker in hopes it'd lighten her mood. It didn't seem to be working very well as of yet. Hopefully after calling the Fernandez-Carriedo residence she'd start to feel differently. "Ask her if she knows a way to keep me from upchucking my breakfast."

"Isn't doing well, is she."

"Not a bit," Arthur honestly answered, giving up on the speaker phone idea. "I think I hear Francis snoring in the background, lazy frog that he is. I'll let you go."

He could practically see Jeanne's beaming smile. "Adieu, Arthur!"

"Such a bright ray of sunshine, isn't she."

"More coffee?" Arthur asked.

((((()))))

"Finnian."

Arthur looked up from his book. It had been almost the whole nine months and Samantha's belly was ever growing bigger and bigger. "Alfred Finnian Kirkland."

_That sounds silly_, he wanted to say, but Sammy had said the same thing about Arthur wanting to name _him_- yes, a boy, Arthur was delighted to learn- Alfred, claiming it was a name for an old man, not a child born into the twenty-first century. At the very least, the child would definitely have an unusual name for sure. But Arthur smiled, nodding. "That sounds wonderful."

Obviously, that had not been the reaction she had wanted. Samantha stiffly turned, announcing she was going out to get groceries. Again, Arthur didn't dare share his opinion on the matter- last time he had offered to do the grocery shopping while she rested at home, Samantha had nearly bitten his head off. He had learned that lesson quickly.

The apartment was quiet with Samantha gone. Either she would complain or hum to herself to keep the silence from settling within the restricted space, but Arthur didn't mind the peaceful July stillness. Tomorrow was the fourth and they had already made plans with Antonio and Lovino, his seven-month-old boy that already proved to be rambunctious. He was going to be quite a handful when he got older. Arthur sincerely hoped Alfred wouldn't be too unruly.

It was around the time he had just finished his book that he got the phone call from the hospital.

Samantha was having the baby.

((((()))))

"Get out of my way, you wanker," Arthur muttered, cursing his luck to be stuck in an awful traffic jam. It was eleven at night and he had already been stuck in traffic for well over an hour. There weren't supposed to be these many bloody cars on the road at such an hour! "My bloody wife is having her baby!"

The line of cars refused to move. Nearly taking off the mirror of the car beside him, Arthur swerved over on to the ditch line. It was a good two miles to the hospital. He could surely make it within half an hour. After all, he had played soccer all throughout high school and college- practice was torture with all the laps they had run. Just before he jumped out and started running, Arthur had the sense to grab the flashlight he kept in his corvette's glove compartment.

As it were, he was still partly in shape, for when he finally came across the blessedly bright red sign telling him the hospital was just to his right, his watch told him he made it there in thirty two minutes. Of course, he felt like he was about to have a heart attack right then and there, but he slugged his way through the double doors, not giving how terrible his appearance must have been a second thought. Behind the reception stood a woman whose eyes almost popped out of her head.

So he _did _look like loony maniac who had just run two miles in an attempt to reach his wife giving birth. That was refreshing to know.

"S… Samantha Kirkland," Arthur huffed. "Having… a baby. M-my wife."

"Sir, maybe you should sit down- sir!"

((((()))))

"I cannot believe you, Arthur Kirkland."

After humiliating himself by passing out like pansy in the middle of the floor, he had awoken in a room so happened to be shared with none other than Samantha, a small bundle wrapped in blue in her arms. He laughed, saying that traffic was absolutely horrid- backed up for a good mile and a half. Of course, Samantha burst into laughter. Ignoring what was probably precaution, Arthur was at her side in an instant. "He looks just like you," Arthur cooed, a smile lighting up his face.

It was true- Alfred Finnian Kirkland had fuzzy light brown hair and a face as impossibly cute as Samantha's. He was asleep- "A brilliant thing, because he was absolutely _howling_ earlier," Samantha tiredly explained. "Doctor said I could probably leave day after tomorrow if I felt up to it. I'm ready to leave _now_, but not with Alfred, they said."

Only Samantha would feel like returning home as if nothing had happened after giving birth. "Here, you hold him a minute. I need to sit up- my back is killing me."

To add on to his horrible luck, Alfred woke up. When the face before him was not Samantha's, tear started to well up in his bright blue eyes- also just like Samantha's. But either he was too sleepy to bother with crying or just not in the mood because with a yawn, he settled back into sleep. Had he not been holding a newborn, Arthur probably would have been skipping about the room. "Don't you feel better about him now?" Arthur asked, eyes never leaving Alfred's precious face.

"About that," Samantha started.

((((()))))

It was absurd. Utterly, inconceivably _absurd_.

Not even four months, and Samantha was already on her way to the courthouse to issue her divorce. Of course, back on the very day Alfred was born, she had warned him that she wasn't going to last long. Not with a baby that took so much time to raise and deal with. Arthur felt like he should be the one to smack her, not the other way around. But it didn't matter. She had already decided, and nothing Arthur could have done would have consoled her in the least. The very best he could do was leave her be, alone with her thoughts Arthur couldn't understand.

Alfred was finally awake after sleeping for a good five hours or so. Arthur had expected endless nights and days of crying, but really, Alfred pretty much slept. And slept some more. Nothing was wrong with him, but he only cried for the usual baby things- food, stinkers, ect.- before dozing back to sleep. Arthur sat in the back beside him, despondently watching Alfred try to gnaw on his fingers. Though it was impossible, Arthur felt like sometimes Alfred knew better than to cry endlessly at fear for Samantha entering another fit of shouting as she was wont to do these days.

Or maybe he simply liked attempting to crush Arthur's fingers more than crying. There were endless reasons Arthur came up with as to why Alfred was so abnormal. Samantha said he had too many Kirkland genes in him to be good for his mental health.

She had gotten so caustic and rude around the two of them, almost to the point that Arthur was afraid she had taken up drinking. After all, she did disappear at random intervals during the day only to come home bitter. Arthur had practically cared for Alfred all by himself, seeing as how Samantha could care less. That was another reason, perhaps. Alfred could have known how much effort Arthur gave to care for him and thus didn't plague him with awful sobbing every waking hour of the day.

Probably not, Arthur reminded himself, but one never knew these things. "Get out, Arthur," Samantha emotionlessly ordered, pulling into a parking space before the court room. He unbuckled Alfred and took him up in his arms, dreading the hour to come.

"She does love you, I'm sure," Arthur muttered to Alfred, fascinated with tugging on his hair. "She just has an odd way of showing it. Probably needs time off or something. From me, not you. She always said I was a fool anyway. Inevitable, I suppose."

Alfred stopped reaching, tears welling up in his blue eyes. "Now, now, don't start mindlessly crying now," Arthur pleaded, taking a moment to stop and check on him. He'd been fed just before they left, and no strange smells were choking the air, so he was alright. Just like that, Alfred resumed pulling Arthur's hair, albeit with more force.

There definitely was something to the child's tears, that was for sure.

"I still love you, Sammy."

But she didn't hear, already pushing open the doors to the courthouse, ready to end her marriage.

**Exposition. But I promise, next chapter will start really delving into the plot.**

…**Sort of. It's mostly exposition too, but the main characters are present, so technically it's plot. Eh, you'll see. Anyways, thanks so much for reading!**


	2. Chapter 2

**Three story alerts and two favorite story alerts in, like, half an hour of posting chapter one…. Is it okay to say I love you guys?**

**My first anon. reviewer- Yes, Samantha is the biggest… **_**jerk**_**, shall we say, to walk the face of the earth. And Allie's lovely name is definitely going to be used against him one day. XD**

**So… I'm going to try and post these chapters every Saturday instead of Tuesday (That's more practical, right?). If I don't, virtually smack me or something. This story WILL be finished! **

**One note: This story takes place in Virginia, the more mountainous part of it (Virginia is a state in America if any of you aren't from USA), in a small town where everyone knows everyone and news travels fast. This pretty important for, say, the end of this chapter.**

**Chapter 2-**

**Four years later**

"Kirkland! Good Lord, the size of that stinker!"

Arthur and Alfred turned (Alfred sitting on his shoulders, fits of blonde hair clenched in his unforgiving fists) to see an albino Beilschmit coming into view. "Nice to see you too, Gilbert!" he said with mock enthusiasm. "It's been such a long ten years, hasn't it?"

Seeing Gilbert was a friend, Alfred reached out his hand to pat him on the head. "Hi, Gilbert! You have funny eyes."

A blonde boy that looked to be Alfred's age- four- shied back behind Gilbert's legs. Arthur longed for the days when Alfred was that quiet- he was as hyperactive and loud as ever. Once he had hit the terrible two's, it seemed like he had _never _gotten out of that atrocious phase. Gilbert grinned, winking at Alfred. "They're awesome eyes, kid, because I'm Gilbert Beilschmit, former soccer captain at Heta High School and now the awesome dad of Ludwig here, obviously trying to inspect the back of my pants. Everything alright down there, kid?"

"I'm not in… inspec… uh…. Can we go find Momma?"

Gilbert let out a boisterous laugh, taking Ludwig's hand. "Helda, my awesome wife, in case you were wondering."

"No, I had just assumed Ludwig came out of thin air," Arthur joked, reaching down to ruffle Ludwig's hair. The blonde shied back again and tried to fix his hair back the way it had been before.

"I thought you said kids came from a stork," Alfred accused, leaning over his head to try and look at his father's face, "not from thin air. Hey, how many kinds of air are there?"

Gilbert chuckled. "Keep your dad out of trouble, 'kay, kiddo? So, where's your little lady, Kirkland?"

"My name is Alfred!" he shouted, painfully pulling Arthur's hair. "Momma left a long time ago," Alfred said easily, wiping Gilbert's grin off his face. Arthur focused his attention on his shoes, a lovely pair he'd just bought last week. "But it's okay, but I still have Jeanne! She's the nicest-" Suddenly, Alfred gasped, yanking Arthur's head to the left. "Matt! Matt! Fwancis and Matt are here- ooh, Jeanne's here, too!"

"Sorry, Arthur," Gilbert awkwardly apologized. Arthur only smiled in response, wincing when Alfred shouted in his ear to be put down on the field.

Gilbert and Ludwig quickly made their leave, tackling Roderich and Elizabeta Edelstein next with their something-month-old son, Heilrich.

Arthur obediently sat Alfred back on the ground, rubbing his aching head. Alfred had a powerful- and painful- grasp. Francis, Jeanne, and Matthew, three years old, had already found Antonio and Aria, respectively holding Lovino and Feliciano, the latter whom couldn't have even been one yet. Arthur remembered going to the baby shower, but for the life of him couldn't remember his best friend's child's age.

Apparently Alfred was ripping out brain cells along with wads of hair. "Matt!" Alfred excitedly repeated, tugging on Arthur's hand. Arthur rolled his eyes, allowing himself to be tugged across the football field covered in scattered tents and groups of old classmates. It was Heta high's ten year reunion, a marvelous occasion for showing off children and boasting about jobs. As earlier had proved, Gilbert was having the time of his life, probably shoving Ludwig into the face of everyone he came across, proclaiming, "THIS IS MY AWESOME SON!" Arthur doubted the man would ever grow up and act his age. But then again, if he did grow up, he wouldn't be the same obnoxious Beilschmit he'd played soccer with for so many years.

Francis, despite ten years having past since their senior year, looked almost exactly the same. His wavy blonde hair was pulled back into an elegant ponytail (Arthur had to resist the urge to tug on it as they came up behind the Frenchman) and, of course, was dressed impeccably. Jeanne, the image of the perfect wife and mother, stood beside him, carrying a sleeping Matthew Aristeo Bonnefoy. She was also well dressed in what appeared to be church clothes- it was Sunday, wasn't it?- so they would probably leave after eating to attend the afternoon service. Jeanne was strict about her church, never late and never missing a day. As opposed to Francis's favorite bedtime story, Beauty and the Beast, for Matthew and Alfred when he visited (which was much too often than Arthur particularly cared for, but nothing, it seemed, could keep him and Matthew apart for long), Jeanne would always read straight from the bible or give them the condensed version of David and Goliath or something of the like.

Almost as if Matthew had an internal sensor that alerted him whenever Alfred was near, the blonde sleepily poked his head up. "Al?" he yawned in his adorable three-year-old voice. Jeanne and Francis also turned, their "Kirkland is coming; time to prepare for Alfred latching onto legs" senses kicking into gear.

But Antonio was first, materializing in front of Arthur's face with a bright smile on his own. Lovino, who yawned and looked up at Arthur with an absolutely uninterested expression, was at his side. "Arthur! I haven't seen you in months! Wow, Alfred," he instantly switched, kneeling down to the beaming four-year-old's face, "you've gotten taller, _chico_!"

Next, in one rapid change of events, Antonio had dragged Arthur over to Aria, a beautiful Italian that had moved to America in her sophomore year, to gush over Feliciano. "He's already eight weeks- can you believe it? You're four now, right, Alfred?"

"Yep!" he said proudly, holding up five fingers. Arthur chuckled and put his thumb back. Alfred inspected his hand a moment before shoving it back in Antonio's face. "Four!"

"How old are you now, Lovino?" Arthur asked.

"Four," he answered blandly, eyes straying over to the refreshments table. Yao Wang was in charge of the food, grilling and cooking while his four and two-year-old son and daughter played underneath the table at his feet. "Mmm, _Papá_, I'm hungry."

Antonio didn't hear him, congratulating Alfred on being close to counting his age. Lovino impatiently tugged on his red sleeve, repeating that he was hungry. Finally, tired of being ignored, Lovino kicked him in the shin. "Ouch! What is it, Lovi?"

"Food," he said pointedly, looking back to Yao's running around from grill to table and back.

Hefting him up on his shoulders, Antonio promised Aria he'd be back with hotdogs. Francis smirked and shook his head. "Antonio's still just as ditzy as before," he commented. "You're looking beautiful today, Aria."

"_Grazie_," she replied with a bright smile. Right on cue, Feliciano burst into tears. Every woman present at the reunion was instantly around him, cooing over how cute he was. Alfred rolled his eyes and attempted to climb up on Arthur's shoulders again. With hair clenched in his fists, Alfred excitedly swerved Arthur back to Francis and Jeanne, Matthew finally coherent enough to sweetly smile at the duo.

"FRANCIS BONNEFOY!"

"He's back," Arthur deadpanned, watching as Gilbert zoomed up the Frenchman with Ludwig and soccer ball in hand. But Arthur's eyes lit up at the sight of a soccer ball.

"Gilbert!" Francis burst, a smile brightening his face. "Ah, this is the angelically beautiful Jeanne and Matthew."

"Ludwig, awesomest kid to ever walk the planet- besides myself when I was a kid, of course. Helda just ran off to grab Elizabeta. Wanna play a game?"

Francis, for whatever reason, had also been on their soccer team back in high school. Since he would have been brutally massacred in football and decapitated in basketball from rebounds, he chose soccer- to impress girls. It had taken a year of strict practices and games to finally get him the decent ability of properly kicking a ball.

"LOVINO! COME BACK HERE WITH THE KETCHUP BOTTLE!"

Aria emerged from the circle of women with a pacified Feliciano, groaning as her eldest son flew by. "Lovino Romulus Fernandez-Carriedo, stop this instant! Lovino!"

Jeanne, shifting Matthew in her arms, patted Francis's shoulder. "I've got to hurry or I'll be late for evening service. You can stay for soccer if you want."

"Are you sure?" the blonde asked incredulously. But he didn't argue, kissing Jeanne and Matthew on the forehead. "I'll meet you after the game, _je vous promets_."

"_Je t'aime_, Francis," Jeanne replied, heading back to their pale blue mustang.

"Matt! Can I go too, Daddy?" Alfred called out, again trying to look down at his face. At his nod, Alfred threw his hands up and cheered, almost causing Arthur to topple over. "We're coming too, Jeanne!"

After all, it had been quite a while since Alfred and Matthew had last seen each other, what with Jeanne's being an elementary teacher. The end of the world would happen before Arthur left his child alone with a Froggy Frenchman like Francis, no matter if Matthew was there to keep him in line or not. He'd fill Alfred's head full of nonsense and corrupt his poor innocent mind. It didn't _matter _if he had married a noble Christian woman with strict rules, Arthur had still spent nearly every waking hour of high school years with the man and knew things about him he could have lived his life many times over without wanting to know.

And besides, Alfred could never sit through a game of soccer without running off and getting into all manners of trouble.

…Like last month at the shopping market. For just a second- _just a second_- Arthur had looked away at his list, only to find half his groceries thrown out of the buggy by a giggling Alfred when he looked up. Of course, everyone passing by thought the spectacle was utterly adorable, but Arthur only sighed, very well used to Alfred's antics.

"Do you want me to drive, Jeanne? You look awfully tired," Arthur noticed. Jeanne laughed, explaining that being shown off to all of Francis's friends _did _get tiring after a while. It fit out nicely, with Jeanne sitting in the backseat with the boys to keep them entertained until they reached the church.

It had been a long time since Arthur had gone to church with Jeanne- to any church, really. He had sent Alfred with the Bonnefoy's a few times so he could rightfully get some quality cleaning time in or to finish reading that book he'd nearly had for a year.

But he only hoped to make it there before the sky erupted and rain drenched them. The sky had been so clear earlier that he hadn't bothered to bring along an umbrella or a coat for himself and Alfred, since it was the middle of August. Arthur made a mental note to start leaving an umbrella in his car for sudden weather situations.

Sure enough as he had predicted, according to his usual rotten luck, it started to rain. And by rain, of course, it was rather _pouring_. Alfred, surprisingly enough, was actually quiet, staring out the window at the massive wall of rock on the side of the road. That was the norm when one lived in mountainous Virginia, of course, but Alfred was entranced none the less. Matthew was probably sleep by the way he leaned into Jeanne- he was never able to resist sleep in a car. It was an odd quirk, Arthur supposed.

"Take the next left and it's a little ways down the road from there," Jeanne quietly told him, pulling Alfred's attention away from the scenery. He smiled and looked over at Matthew, giggling when he snored and blew wavy, pale blonde hair out of his face.

The rain wasn't at all obstructing Arthur's driving- he was always a good driver, if he did say so himself. But on sharp curves with no line of sight, it was hard for him to avoid the white SUV that seemed to appear out of nowhere.

Matthew, sitting in the middle of the seat, woke in an instant at Jeanne's shriek. Alfred's bright eyes went wide as the bumper of the SUV collided with the driver's side of Jeanne's mustang, sending them spinning in the water that had collected on the road. Matthew's shriek had joined in with his mother's, scrabbling to grab Alfred for protection when the car slammed hard into the rock wall, still on the passenger's side. The jerk of falling into the ditch slung Matthew back hard across Jeanne's lap into the door, his arm getting caught on Arthur's seat, protruding out from the rock smashing the side of the car in.

Before Alfred could react, cry out for his father, eyes closed and leaning onto the airbag, or for Jeanne, whose beautiful yellow dress was slowly turning deep red; The door beside him yanked open. A bleary eyed man with a long, trailing black beard, yanked him out of the vehicle, roughly demanding to know if he had been hurt. The man's voice had an accent Alfred had never heard, hard and cold, but still concerned. On the other side of the road was the SUV- he must have been the driver. An eleven-year-old girl with pale brown hair got of the side, speaking on a cell phone. _She must be calling 911_, Alfred realized, the severity of what just happened finally starting to sink in. A four-year-old with hair like his sister's got out next, his eyes, which were a peculiar purple color, growing wide. "_S-sestra, _I-I'm scared!" he burst, eyes growing wider as they laid on Alfred, shaking hard when their father finally let go of his arm to peer inside at the others.

_You're scared?_ Alfred inwardly scoffed. He dropped down on the side of the road, listening to the girl's shaking voice telling the police, hospital, _whoever _where they were. The boy had backed up, staring at Alfred in terror. "Stop!" Alfred finally shouted, his voice cracking apart. "If you're scared, go back to your car!"

The sister dropped at his side now, patting his back, softly speaking in some foreign language Alfred again didn't know. He knew English and the little French he had picked up from Francis and Jeanne- Jeanne, Jeanne, Jeanne was still in the car-

"Jeanne!" Alfred wailed, jumping up to look inside. The man less than gently pushed him out of the way, carrying Matthew out. He was unconscious, a little trickle of blood falling from his scalp, darkening his pretty hair. When the man sat Matthew down on the ground, he gruffly told Alfred not to touch him. Of course Alfred didn't listen, wiping his face off with his shirt in an attempt to get rid of the bleeding. "_Pozhaluĭsta, ostavʹte yego v pokoe_!" the girl chirped in his ear again, making him sit down.

"Katyusha, you speak in a tongue he doesn't know," the father said.

She blinked a moment, just realizing that she _hadn't _been speaking English. "B-boy, don't touch him, please. He might be hurt."

"Of course Matthew's hurt!" Alfred snapped, pointing at the blood smudged on his forehead. "Jeanne and Daddy are hurt too and- and-!"

The boy finally walked over to Alfred with confidence and patted his head. "It'll be okay, da?"

Alfred was too furious to answer. Who was he, terrified just moments ago, to tell him it would be okay? _Daddy isn't out of the car- why isn't he out of the car? Why isn't he here telling them to leave us alone and get away from me and Matthew?_

A line of ambulances rolled in, paramedics jumping out of the backs. Two fire trucks came in after, firefighters running towards them with a big pair of scissors. Alfred hadn't even noticed one of the paramedics pick of Matthew and rush him back to the ambulance, or the other one that picked him up, asking him if he was alright.

How was he supposed to answer something like that?

No, Alfred was not okay. He was scared- _Where is Daddy at?_- and shaking something terrible, eyes filled with tears that refused to fall. Alfred stomped on the paramedic's foot as he shut the doors on the scene outside. "No! Daddy's not here yet!" he yelled, trying to open it back. "Daddy's not here!"

"Shh, shh," the blonde paramedic said, kneeling down at his level. The ambulance roared to life, the sirens blaring in his ringing ears. "This had to happen on my last day, just my luck…. Is he stable, Stevens?"

"Kid's fine. A minor scrape on his head and it looks like his arm is broken, but nothing serious. Probably passed out from shock rather than injury," the other paramedic, Stevens, reported.

The blonde man turned back to him, nervously looking him over again for any injuries Alfred wasn't telling him about. "Are you okay?" he asked again, much softer this time. When Alfred refused to answer- he had given up on trying to get back outside to find Daddy, but that didn't mean he was going to give in and cooperate- the blonde man sighed. "My name is Vash Zingwili. Can you… tell me yours?"

"Your name sounds funny," Alfred mumbled, now refusing to even look at him. He frankly didn't care if Vash's name was Barbie; he wanted to know where Daddy and Jeanne were.

Vash seemed stunned, but he quickly recovered with a chuckle. "I suppose it does. My family comes from Switzerland- they have funny names like mine over there. What's the other boy's name?"

"Matthew. I'm Alfred."

Alfred was starting to feel tired now, his eyes almost closing on his own. The ambulance rocked to and fro as they rushed through turn after turn, through small valleys and small rolling hills. "Where is Daddy?" he quietly asked before fell into Vash's waiting arms.

"Hopefully alright, kid," he answered honestly, sadly looked down at him. _A little kid, didn't cry, held strong for such a long time…._

"Make sure his friend there gets a good room when we get to the hospital. I'll wait with him until someone comes for him," Vash instructed, his no-nonsense voice coming back. Maybe he did have a soft side for children after all- or maybe because he could relate. Vash held strong when things crumbled down around him, too. But he had never witnessed his father get into a terrible wreck, that probably being the last thing he'd ever see of him.

Vash really hoped the kid's father would be okay.

((((()))))

"You dummy!" Lovino burst from the sidelines. "Why did you let Gil kick the ball before you did? You're bad at this game!"

"Lovino, shush," Aria absently chided before turning back to Yao, writing down the recipe for the delicious three-fruit pie she had earlier. His two children, Kiku and Xiao Mei, were quietly drawing beside him like sensible children. Geez, why couldn't Lovino have been quiet like them? Speaking of the four-year-old- "Ugh, you missed it again! You could have taken the ball from Gilbert right there!"

Antonio nervously smiled up at him in the stands. "I'll try harder!" he promised before running after Gilbert, closing in quick to the unmanned goal. Surprising them all, Elizabeta slid in, kicking the ball over to Antonio who now had the challenge of keeping the ball away from Francis.

"Aw, come on, Lizzie!" Gilbert complained, loud enough that nearly everyone could here him. "You never play fair!"

"Shut up and play," she replied, a smile tugging at her lips. Yes, Elizabeta hadn't had this much fun in years. Roderich wasn't nearly as lively as Gilbert, but not nearly as obnoxious and loud, either.

"Kick it in! Kick it in!" Lovino shouted from the stands, waking Feliciano. The baby blinked a minute, squinting at the gathering clouds, before letting out a wail. Before Aria could, Lovino handed him his pacifier and expectantly turned back to the game.

He may be the reason Feli cries so much, but at least he's a decent brother, Aria had to admit. Right as the rain started, Antonio kicked the ball in. Lovino jumped up, yelling, "It's about time, dummy! You could have won a long time ago if you weren't so bad at this game!"

But Antonio only smiled, giving him a thumbs up, before rushing up to Aria and the boys to lead them back to the car. He draped his thin coat over Aria's shoulders and quickly said goodbye, running after Gilbert and Francis.

Aria pursed her lips, glaring after ditzy Antonio who had forgotten _again_ to give her a proper goodbye. "_Stupido _Antonio," she muttered. "Lovino, let's go back home. _Mamma_ is tired."

"Don't you tell me not to call _Papá _stupid?" Lovino asked, struggling to run so fast and still stay dry under the coat.

"I'm his wife," she tightly explained, growing more irritated each time Lovino sassed her, "It's okay for me to speak my mind when he deserves it."

Lovino still seemed unsure, but didn't say anything else, growing more irritated each time his mother did things she told him not to do.

((((()))))

"Dude, not awesome, I'm soaking wet," Gilbert complained as he turned on the air full blast to try and dry himself off a bit. Ludwig had gone home with Helda, his awesome wife that had complained she was going deaf after the day. Gilbert rolled his eyes each time, claiming someone as awesome as her couldn't possibly be going deaf because of someone as awesome as him.

Francis shook his head, grinning, and fixed his hair back, hoping the rain hadn't ruined it. He had spent a good hour in the bathroom that morning trying to look his best (even Matthew had starting complaining by time he finally came out, looking as impeccable as ever).

"Ooh, must be a wreck up ahead," Antonio said, stating the obvious, when a line of ambulances and fire trucks passed by them. He had merely patted his hair down to it's usual messy state, being not nearly as vain as his friends in the front seats. Besides, Aria probably wouldn't like it if he stayed out all afternoon for the service- at least, not without her- and he figured Gilbert would go back home to feast on leftovers of the food he'd neglected to eat on account of being too busy bragging about how awesome he had gotten after high school.

Seemingly seconds later, the ambulances zoomed past them again, going nearly twenty over the speed limit. The three men suddenly grew worried. Gilbert picked up speed.

Right at the sharp turn onto the road to the church were several police cars blocking off the road around the site of the wreck. A truck had already arrived to pick up the half-smashed pale blue mustang, looking familiarly like-

"_Mon Dieu_," Francis breathed before bolting out of the car towards the wreck. "Jeanne!"

Gilbert and Antonio weren't but two steps behind him.

"Sir, I'm afraid-"

"That's my car! Where is my wife?" he burst, grabbing the police officer's shoulders. "My son was in that car! _Où sont-ils_? _Où sont-ils_?"

The Frenchman broke into sobs, rendering the policeman speechless. "_Mon Dieu…._"

**Translation time!**

**Russian:**

_**Sestra- Sister**_

_**Pozhaluĭsta, ostavʹte yego v pokoe- Please, leave him alone**_

**French:**

_**Je vous promets- I promise**_

_**Je t'aime- I love you**_

_**Mon Dieu- My God**_

_**Où sont-ils- Where are they?**_

**Italian:**

_**Stupido- **_**it's kind of obvious… XD **

_**Mamma- **_**Mommy or Mama, although that's pretty obvious as well.**

**Spanish:**

_**Papá-**_** Daddy or Papa**

**I swear things will look up for Arthur eventually. Exposition bunnies must run their course, I'm afraid, and things aren't going to better for quite a while. Thank you, everyone who alerted and favorited and the three wonderful people who reviewed chapter one!**


	3. Chapter 3

**Maya- I'm sorry, but I had to! The kids are alright, but they'll definitely never forget, that's for sure. As for everyone else… well, that's what this chapter is for.**

**More story alerts! Thank you, everyone! **

**Chapter 3-**

"Had your father lost control of the vehicle before they crashed?"

Alfred felt the tears welling again, but pride stopped them from falling. "I don't know," he answered for what seemed to be the thousandth time. When would they finally listen to him and stop asking him things he didn't know?

The Russian family was also present in the waiting room, simultaneously being questioned about the accident. Vash patiently sat next to Alfred, answering as best he could to questions he didn't know either. The other four-year-old was sitting down as well, his knees pulled close to his chest, forlornly looking at his sister, Katyusha, the father had called her; as she helped her father.

The policeman swallowed, trying his best to keep calm and remember he was dealing with a most likely traumatized four-year-old.

"Where is Daddy?" Alfred asked again.

Just as procedure called for, the policeman didn't answer. Instead, he asked, "How was your father and the woman and child related?"

"They're friends. Today was Daddy's school reunion and Jeanne wanted to go to church, 'cause it's Sunday," he explained. Vash and the officer both offered a weary smile at getting a decent answer from the boy. "Matthew's daddy stayed to play soccer with his friends. He said he and Gilbert and Antonio would go to church afterwards."

"So you're not related?"

"No, just friends, like I already told you. Daddy doesn't love any girls because Mommy left us when I was little. He's still really sad about her."

The officer's next question was cut off by a commotion at the reception desk. A blonde man frantically ran in, a brunette and albino coming in soon after. "That's Francis!" Alfred burst in relief. "Can I go to him now?"

Wiping Alfred's smile off, Francis ran past the waiting area, leaving Gilbert and Antonio at the desk. "He probably wants to see Matthew first," Vash quietly explained at Alfred's despondent expression. "When your daddy is out of surgery, you can see him too."

"I want to see him now," Alfred muttered, looking back to his muddy sneakers. He was sure his daddy wouldn't be happy to see them dirty- after all, both of them had just gotten new shoes just a few days ago. He also wouldn't have wanted to see the mud he tracked throughout the clean, white hospital floor, but Vash and the police didn't wait for him to scuff his shoes clean at the door. They were asking him questions as soon as the ambulance parked and he woke up. They had taken Matthew away, telling him they had to fix his arm or else it'd hurt him when he woke up. Alfred wasn't happy to be left alone with these strangers- Arthur had strictly told him never to speak to strangers, but these strangers were really persistent!- but if they were going to help Matthew feel better, he didn't try to stop them.

The officer who had been speaking with the Russian family walked over. "Mr. Braginski claims it had been his fault and says he's willing to help pay the hospital bills," he reported.

Since he wasn't being bothered by useless questions anymore, he turned to look at the boy his age, quietly speaking with his sister. She seemed flustered and kept looking up to her father, Mr. Braginski. Alfred wasn't even sure he could _say _Braginski, but the man walked over anyway. "You're safe, da?" he asked in his grisly voice. At Alfred's nod, he nodded to his children. "Katyusha and Ivan," he introduced. "I am Morozko Braginski."

Morozko seemed to be a funnier name than Vash, making him reconsider calling the paramedic weird earlier. He was starting feel a little bad at how he had ignored him in the ambulance because Vash had sat with him through the stupid questions. He was nice, Alfred realized, but he certainly didn't like to show it, because he muttered complaints every so often. Speaking of the blonde- when Antonio and Gilbert caught sight of Alfred, Vash got up to meet them, filling them in on the wreck. He spoke low to where Alfred couldn't hear, but whatever he said, it made Antonio and Gilbert go pale.

Daddy better have been alright, because he had promised him he'd take him out for ice cream. And also… Alfred was still afraid. The sky had already gotten dark outside and he hadn't seen Daddy, Jeanne, or Matthew for what seemed like hours.

"Alfred, are you okay?"

The boy blinked, snapping back to reality to look up and see a very concerned Antonio. Alfred nodded. Then, as his stomach rumbled, he announced he was hungry. Antonio laughed, ruffling his hair. Alfred was started to realize why Lovino snapped at him when Antonio ruffled his hair. It _was_ kind of annoying after a while. "Well, do you want to come with Gilbert to see Matthew while I get something to eat? Uh, if it's alright, officer," Antonio amended, just remembering the policemen standing next to Alfred. The policeman nodded, sighing that they'd pretty much gotten all the information they were going to get out of him.

_Finally!_ Alfred thought, a smile breaking out on his face at last. _I get to see Matthew and Daddy and Jeanne! _Alfred practically dragged Gilbert outside, but agreed to let him lead the way to the room Matthew was at. Antonio, who waved goodbye to them, rushed out the door as promised. The hospital was too white for Alfred's taste. If he had been the one to design the place, he would have made it colorful. After all, people in the hospital were either sick or hurt, right? He figured they would want colorful walls to cheer them up instead of boring white.

Matthew's room was up high on the fifth floor of the hospital- even higher up than Alfred's apartment could reach! Francis was already inside, speaking soft French to Matthew, who sat up with dazed look. He had a blue cast on his arm, already signed by Francis in an attempt to console him no doubt. But Matthew's eyes lit up when Alfred and Gilbert walked in. "Al!" he happily cried.

"'Tonio went to get food," Gilbert faithfully reported, letting Alfred loose to run over to Matthew. Francis didn't respond but to comb through Matthew's hair.

"You should've seen the funny guy downstairs, Matt," Alfred burst, leaning on the side of his bed. "He had a funny name and said he came from Switzerland. Then there was another guy with a name so weird I couldn't say! He had a girl and boy my age. The girl was nice, but the boy was kind of weird. The police asked all sorts of dumb questions. I don't think they knew I was just a kid and couldn't answer half of them, but they were really annoying. Hey, have you seen my daddy yet, Matt?"

Matthew barely got anything out of Alfred's rapid run-down of Vash and the Braginski's, but he shrugged at his last question. "I woke up here. A nice lady told me Papa would be here soon. She left a minute ago."

"You weren't hurt, were you, Alfred?" Francis asked at last. Alfred's eyes widened at seeing his puffy eyes and red cheeks. Unable to speak, Alfred shook his head. "Good. I want you to go home with Gilbert, okay? It will be a while before Arthur comes out."

"B-but I want to stay with Matt," he stuttered, grabbing onto Matthew's good arm. Matthew joined in with Alfred's pleading look.

Francis frowned but didn't get angry, to Alfred's surprise. He just looked tired, like he was the one who should go home instead of him. "Alfred, you do realize what is going on, don't you?" Francis exasperatedly asked. "You were just in a car wreck. Your father and… Jeanne were badly hurt. The doctors here are trying to get them better, but it's going to take a long time- probably half the night with what I've been told. It's best if you spend the night and come back in the morning. You know Arthur wouldn't want you staying here worrying over him."

"You and Matthew are staying here!" Alfred argued, trying his best to glare across Matthew's bed to Francis. Being so short, it was hard to look intimidating, but Alfred had to stay. He wanted to be there the instant Arthur came back, middle of the night or not. He absolutely had to stay- Arthur would rather see Alfred over Francis any day. Even if they were best friends, Arthur still called Francis things like "froggy" and "goldilocks" to tease him. Francis would never miss a beat, teasing him about his horrible hairstyle and cooking. It would take Jeanne to break the brewing argument up. And it wouldn't be nice of Francis to start teasing Arthur while he was hurt without Jeanne to break them up, Alfred knew, so he would have to be the one to calm them down.

"Matthew is hurt and can't leave," Francis shot back. "And I have to be here when they bring… Jeanne…." His voice trembled into silence again, making Matthew frown.

"But-"

Cutting off Alfred's plead, Antonio burst in. "I brought chicken nuggets!" the Spaniard sang, gently kicking the door close behind him. "And ice cream, but only after you eat the good stuff."

Seemingly oblivious to the argument between Francis and Alfred going on, Antonio grinned down to Matthew, giving him a bag of McDonald's first. Matthew instantly started digging through the bag with his good arm in search of a toy. He cried in triumph when he pulled out the tiny action figure. That alone seemed to put Francis back in somewhat-good spirits. Antonio distributed the ice creams for the adults in the room- "So much better than beer," Gilbert sarcastically said with the roll of his crimson eyes, earning a simultaneous smack from Antonio and Francis.

"What's beer?" Matthew whispered to Alfred.

The brunette shrugged.

((((()))))

An hour or so had passed until Antonio's phone went off, a peppy salsa tune filling the air. Matthew, who had just dozed off, blinked back to consciousness. Alfred, seated next to him on the bed playing with his McDonald's toy and Francis, in a chair beside him, quietly told him to go back to sleep. Even when Antonio excused himself outside, they could still hear the buzz of Aria's voice demanding to know where he was this late. Antonio quieted her down, explaining the wreck and how he was staying until they sorted out who Alfred would go home with.

Alfred scowled at Francis, but the Frenchman only weakly smirked in victory. Gilbert rolled his eyes at the exchange, and pulled out a fifty from his wallet. "How about you and me go buy some presents? I bet your dad would love a teddy bear."

The four-year-old chuckled in acquiescence, quietly telling Matthew he'd be back. Matthew yawned and waved him off, earning him a hair ruffled from Gilbert.

_Seriously, what is up with adults and our hair?_ Alfred wondered as they quietly snuck past Antonio trying his best to calm a flustered Aria. In the background, Feliciano's sudden crying spell and Aria's wail of "LOVINO!" was heard plain as day.

"Yikes," Gilbert muttered. "So, what're you thinking for old Kirkland?"

"I want to make him something that he'd really like," Alfred decided solemnly. "I think I'll draw him a picture. And then I'll get Matthew a teddy bear! But not a brown one- those are boring," Alfred said animatedly. "Ooh! I wonder if there's a white one- a polar bear would be so cool!"

Once the elevator doors opened, Alfred grabbed Gilbert's hand and took off running towards the gift shop at the front doors. The gift shop was overflowing with Hallmark cards and bouquets right out of a Martha Stuart gardening magazine. Frankly, it looked more like a store for grandmothers, but Gilbert decided to keep quiet when he saw a man looking through the get well cards. If it hadn't been a hospital gift shop, Gilbert totally would have been making fun of him.

But then again… he was in the Grandma-style gift shop too. But technically, he was with a kid, so it was fine, right? But what if they thought he was only using Alfred as a cover up-

"Hello? Gilbert?" Alfred asked again, tugging on his arm. When the albino snapped out of his paranoid thoughts- _Pssh, why am I even worried. I'm awesome enough to go anywhere and do anything I like! I'm like… Chuck Norris awesome!_- he apologized and followed him over to a shelve teeming over with stuffed animals. "Help me look for a polar bear, okay?"

It would have been easier to look for a needle in a haystack. This place had everything from flying squirrels to jellyfish- Alfred and Gilbert were both floored to find a stuffed jellyfish- but not even a regular, normal brown bear could be found. "This is seriously not awesome," Gilbert grumbled, standing up on the tips of his toes to look on the tallest shelf. It also was not awesome how short he was. But he _was _awesomely smart. "Alright, kiddo, up you go! Find that polar bear!"

On Gilbert's shoulders, Alfred tore through the top shelve, digging as far back as he could in search of Matthew's polar bear.

"Uh, can I help you?"

Absolutely _not _jumping in surprise at the new voice, Gilbert _accidentally _took a wrong step back and nearly tossed Alfred off his shoulders. But Alfred grabbed hold of Gilbert's hair with a monstrous ferocity and kept hold. The two turned to see a blonde woman in a doctor's white coat and mint green scrubs. Alfred smiled, waving at her cheerfully. "I'm trying to find a polar bear for my friend."

"A polar bear? Well, there should be one around here somewhere. Let me check behind the counter. Sometimes we keep spare stuffed animals back there," the doctor explained, flicking the intern's forehead (who was asleep during Alfred and Gilbert's spectacle) as she passed. He woke, instantly apologizing. "I'm Dr. Zira Zwingli, by the way."

"Vash," Alfred blinked. "That was Vash's name."

"You know my husband?" she asked poking her head up from a box of stuffed animals. "Oh, then you must be Alfred, the little boy from the ambulance. He said he liked you."

"I liked him too!" Alfred cried, when Gilbert sat him back on the floor. "Mr. Vash sat with me when all the annoying police were asking me stupid questions."

Dr. Zwingli chuckled, then cried in triumph, pulling a large polar bear out of the box. She smiled and handed it to Alfred, whooping in glee. "Matthew is gonna love this! It's almost as big as him!" While the four-year-old started spewing words too fast for comprehension, Gilbert thanked the doctor for her help in his stead.

"It's been a while since Vash has smiled, so I'm pretty glad those two met. It's funny, actually. This was his last day on the job as a paramedic. Tomorrow he starts his job as policeman down town."

"How do you go from paramedic to policeman?" Gilbert asked incredulously.

"Well… Vash has always been more of a protector than a savior. I think when he sees people hurt, it hurts him in turn, so he wants to prevent things like that from happening," Zira explained, fishing for her wallet. "Here, that thing costs all your limbs and then some." Ignoring Gilbert, she handed Alfred a twenty and offered him a smile. "This is thanks on my husband's account. And I'll tell you what else, Alfred. If you tell me which room is Matthew's, I'll make sure your father is put with him, alright?"

Alfred nodded, offering his own thanks. But suddenly, he frowned, almost forgetting one very important fact- "What about Jeanne?"

Gilbert suddenly put a hand on his shoulder. "Come on, Alfred. Let's get this bear to Matthew."

Alfred wriggled out of his grasp. "What about Jeanne?" he repeated, clutching the bear close. "Why… why is that Francis didn't want to talk about her? Why don't _you _want to talk about her? Jeanne is alright, isn't she? Isn't she?"

"No one told you…," Zira whispered. She pulled Alfred into a hug, startling him into dropping Matthew's bear. "She's dead, honey. We couldn't save her."

Not a single tear fell from his eye.

((((()))))

"How about we camp out at my house, Alfred? I promised I would let Lovino spend the night in the tent a while back, and…." Antonio sighed, rubbing the back of his head. Alfred wasn't paying the least bit attention to him, still silent from hearing about Jeanne. "Listen, Alfred. You know that Jeanne loved church, right? She loved Jesus, too. Because she loved Jesus, do you know where she is now?"

Francis had buried his face into his hands, his shoulders shaking. Matthew was well into slumber, clutching his bear close. Alfred frowned, lowering his gaze. "Heaven, that place she liked to talk about."

Antonio nodded. "That's right. She's happy now with Jesus."

"But… but she didn't get to church. She's sad about that, isn't she?"

The Spaniard blinked. Then, despite himself, cracked a smile. "Heaven is _better _than church, Alfred. I'm sure she'd rather be there than anyway else on earth."

"_Maman est à la maison, nous n'avons pas encore vécu dans_. _Home est encore à venir_," Matthew mumbled. "That's what Papatold me."

Francis quietly translated, "Jeanne is in the home we haven't lived in yet. Home is still to come."

Alfred was quiet a moment for asking, "Daddy… isn't there either, is he?"

"No, Arthur is still here. I think he should be getting out of surgery soon… but he'll probably sleep all night, so… come home with me?" Antonio asked- no, nearly pleaded. He really needed to get away from Aria and bringing Alfred over would be a perfect excuse to escape her wrath. Plus, Antonio was sure Lovino would love having someone to play with besides their grandpa Roma. And even Roma, though he practically lived in their house, was always out and about with business from his work. He was a college ancient history professor- at _Harvard_. Aria practically shoveled in money from her father, as magnanimous as ever when it came to his daughter and favorite grandsons. It was that very money that Aria was sure to put away for the kids' college funds, practically making Antonio swear every morning not to touch- even in case of emergency, unless someone in the immediate family was dying.

She was _that _crazy about college.

Alfred put on his best stubborn, incredibly cute puppy-dog look. Antonio instantly squealed like a girl, dashing for his cheeks. "Alfred, you're so cute! Just like Lovi when he gets mad! Oh, he'll be so glad to have a friend over- come on, let's go!"

"Wait- what?" Alfred burst, taken aback in shock when his puppy-dog eyes failed him. The eyes _always _worked- it was how he got Arthur to cave and let him have two servings of ice cream after dinner! Antonio picked him up, happily chirping something about how they were going to roast marshmallows outside their tent, just like he and his _Papá _used to do after a hard day's work on the tomato farm.

"Ah~, I miss those days, but I guess being a mechanic is fun too," Antonio sighed, well unaware of Alfred struggling to break free of the Spaniard's tight, reminiscing grasp. "Even though it took _forever _to convince them to let me have the day off for the reunion. I don't what I'll do when we go on vacation to Spain! Hey, Arthur's parents went back to Britain, right? I bet that's cool! Have you visited them?"

With a huff, Alfred gave up trying to break free, seeing as they had already reached Gilbert's car. In the midst of Antonio's annoying speech about tomatoes and Spain, Gilbert had somehow said goodbye to Francis and Matthew and rushed after them.

Right when Antonio opened the car door, cold fear gripped Alfred, making him grab hold of the back of Antonio's shirt. The brunette froze, looking down in confusion. Suddenly, he palmed himself. "Alfred, I'm so sorry, I hadn't even realized you might be afraid-"

"I-I'm not scared," he stuttered despite himself. "S-Superman isn't afraid of cars. Spiderman isn't either! So… so why should I?"

To prove his point, Alfred shimmied to the ground, still wet from the earlier downpour and scowled into the car. "You're just a hunk of metal!" he accused, climbing in and shutting the door (not slamming, because Arthur always said that would mess up the car door) behind him. Gilbert gave him an encouraging smile, winking at him in the rearview mirror. "Buckle up, kiddo."

Even though Alfred certainly wasn't _scared_, he did keep an iron grip on his seat belt the entire drive to Antonio's house. It was farther away than Alfred had thought, about a half hour's drive out of town. Mountains loomed in the distance, collecting foggy clouds around their peaks, blocking out the stars. It would… be fun, Alfred conceded at last, to spend the night in a tent. He didn't really know Lovino at all, and he hoped Antonio wouldn't bring Feliciano because he cried too much. In between giving Gilbert directions, Antonio started up a story about his high school days, claiming that today was the perfect day for bringing up soccer. Of course, he only mentioned soccer once or twice, talking more about how Gilbert and Francis used to argue about who would get Elizabeta as a girlfriend.

"I'd known her longer," Gilbert sullenly put in. "We practically grew up together."

"But Francis had amazing hair," Antonio reminded him. "Remember that when the three of us had to room together on our Junior trip to D.C.? Francis almost made us late because he took too long in the bathroom."

Gilbert nodded indignantly. "He wouldn't let me in to brush my teeth!"

"Anyway, back to Elizabeta. She didn't like Gil and Fran fighting over her, so she purposely hooked up with Roderich to get on their nerves."

"Choosing my nerd of a cousin over me…. It was not awesome."

Antonio laughed, turning back to face Alfred, bored out his wits. "And you can tell what happened after that."

Suddenly, Gilbert smiled. "Tell him about the time Kirkland got locked in the locker room."

"Uh, which time?"

"Daddy locked himself up? He does that all the time now, too. I think he likes leaving his car keys in his car after he locks it. He has, like, three spare keys hanging beside the door," Alfred put in, perking up at the sound of one of his father's blunders. "One time he accidentally locked us out of the apartment. He had to pick the lock, and it took a really long time. At least I got to eat the ice cream before it melted. Daddy forgot about it, so I was able to finish it without him yelling."

Gilbert and Antonio gave him an incredulous look. "You ate an entire box of ice cream by yourself?"

Alfred nodded. "It was the kind with chocolate chips in it. My favorite."

"Better tell Aria to hide the ice cream, then," Antonio muttered.

((((()))))

"Antonio… why did you bring Arthur's boy home?"

While Alfred was busy gawking at the Carriedo's _humongous _house, Antonio again burst into explanation about the wreck and how Alfred had no one else to stay with. Aria had started an argument, something about him freeloading off her father's money, when Lovino seemed to pop out of no where. The four year old sighed, waving Alfred after him. "_Mamma_ is going to be yelling for quite a while, so you better come to the living room."

Their living room was almost bigger than Alfred and Arthur's apartment. Everywhere he looked, Alfred found amazing paintings and family photos scattered across the maroon walls. The ivory marble floor was dazzlingly clean, reflecting Alfred's face back at him. He finally got a glimpse of tired blue eyes and a mussed light brown hair on his head. Alfred really looked like something the cat dragged in- or so Arthur would say. Arthur would then fish a comb out of pocket and pull out the tangles, telling him that he always needed to look his best and always act like a gentleman, even if everyone else didn't. Alfred almost felt a little guilty again for acting rude to Francis and walking around with a shabby appearance. But then again, sometimes even Arthur had fussed about maniacs on the road or the price of ice cream at Wal-Mart.

And today had been sc- no, not scary. Today had been… sad. Jeanne left them for heaven and Daddy was in surgery, whatever that was. And now he was stuck at Antonio's house, being led around by Lovino, who was explaining where everything was.

"Hey, are you even listening to me?" said boy demanded, finally stopping on his tour. "It's not nice to ignore someone."

"It's not nice to yell at people either, but you're doing it," Alfred shot back.

Behind them, in the arms of a sleeping man Alfred hadn't even noticed, Feliciano started to cry. "Ugh, great," Lovino groaned, kneeling down to a pale blue bag. He fished out a pacifier and stuck it in the baby's mouth. His baby brother looked up at him in what could have been thanks, but then he spat it out and started crying again. "_Abuelo_! Hey, _Abuelo_!" Lovino shouted, shaking the sleeping man's knee. "You dummy, wake up! Feliciano's crying!"

But his grandfather remained fast asleep. Aria was still yelling at Antonio for something, most of the time switching over to Italian. Lovino gritted his teeth, close to frustrated tears himself. "Stop crying, Feli," he said tiredly, instead of yelling like Alfred had expected. "They don't care anyway. Are you hungry or something? I don't understand 'baby', _hermano_."

Lovino pointed back to the baby bag at the foot of the couch. "Get his bottle out. Do you know how to put the milk in the microwave?"

Alfred's dumb stare must have been answer enough. "Alright, try and calm him down. I'll be back in a minute. If my dummy of an _Abuelo _wakes up, tell him not to freak out or anything, okay?"

Marching off with the bottle and a little box, Lovino disappeared down a long hallway to the kitchen. Feliciano's crying had died down into little hiccups, but Aria still hadn't heard him and their grandfather was still fast asleep, starting to snore now. "U-uh, your brother will be back in a minute," Alfred explained to the baby, who suddenly seemed to forget about being hungry when Alfred's face popped into vision. "I'm Alfred. You're Feliciano, right?"

The baby smiled, reaching out his hands. Alfred grinned and shook his hands, making Feliciano erupt in cute little giggles. After a while of playing, Lovino returned as promised with a bottle of warm milk. "What, you're not hungry anymore?" he teased. But Feliciano instantly reached for the bottle when he saw it, completely forgetting Alfred even existed. "I knew it, you little pig," Lovino laughed, moving where Alfred had been standing to feed him. "I think he cares more about food than anyone, even if they play with him. But it is kind of cute, I have to admit."

"How did you know how to fix his bottle?" Alfred asked, hoping he'd answer one the mysteries of life for him.

Lovino shrugged, pulling back the bottle to test if Feliciano was finished or not. When tears of indignation filled up in his eyes, Lovino obediently put the bottle back. "I watch _Mamma _do it all the time. And when she starts yelling at _Papá _like that she usually doesn't hear Feli when he cries, so I have to feed him. _Abuelo _always sleeps."

Antonio finally walked in with a sigh, rubbing the back of his head again. "Lovino, how about sleeping in the tent tonight?"

The boy's amber eyes lit up. "The tent?" he repeated excitedly. But, remembering he was mad at Antonio and Aria for ignoring Feliciano again, he instantly switched back to his apathetic demeanor. "I guess. Whatever."

"I'll go get it right now! Hey, you fed Feliciano? Good job, Lovi!"

"Are you going to get it or not?" Lovino replied impatiently. Antonio smiled and again and disappeared into the recesses of the house. "'Good job, Lovi!' Geez, if I didn't do it, he'd starve, dummy." To further prove how much he cared for Feliciano, Lovino wrapped him up again, seeing the baby offer a yawn. He slapped his grandfather's knee again, this time finally waking him up. "I fed Feli and now he's going to sleep, okay? Try not to roll over on him or something."

He blinked a moment, focusing on Alfred. "Who're you? I didn't know Lovi was bringing over a friend." For a moment, it was almost like he was about to say he didn't know Lovi _had _any friends.

"I'm Alfred. I'm staying the night while my Daddy gets better."

"Gets better…? What happened?"

Antonio emerged from the hallway with a tent and three sleeping bags tucked under his arms. "Ah, Roma! You're awake! This is Alfred, one my friend's sons. Hey, Lovi, how about you two go play upstairs while I set up everything outside."

"Now he's trying to get rid of me?" Lovino scoffed. "Alright. Hey, Alfred, do you like playing pirates?"

"I love playing pirates!"

((((()))))

"Are you sure the tent is supposed to be lopsided like that?" Lovino scrutinized, cocking his head at the cloth mass before him. "It better not fall in on us."

Antonio laughed off his caustic remarks, inviting them inside. The tent was small and cramped, the only light source coming from a flashlight standing up in the center. Antonio had rearranged the sleeping bags so that all three of them could fit, even if they'd halfway be on top of each other. Antonio explained that it was a tent for two people, but since Lovino and Alfred were so small still, it would work out.

It turns out they didn't have the marshmallow roast Antonio had boasted about, because as soon as Lovino crawled into his sleeping bag, he was snoring. Alfred was tired as well, snuggling into his.

"_Buenos noches, chicos_," Antonio quietly said, turning off the light.

**Translations:**

**Spanish-**

_**Abuelo- grandpa**_

_**Hermano- brother**_

_**Buenos noches, chicos- good night, boys**_


	4. Chapter 4

**My goodness, you guys. All those pretty story alerts and favorites… could you leave a nice review, as well? There would be, like, thirty per chapter that way! XD Thanks so much, everyone!**

**Ah, and sorry for not posting this Saturday. Sunday through Tuesday was a mini-vacation my family and I took to the beach. We were only home a few hours Wednesday before my aunt shipped us off to her cabin to spend the rest of the week in. Her cabin's internet hates my guts, and thus this is a day late.**

**My mother has America's laugh, I realized. It was scary, to say the least.**

**Finally we get a chance to look in on Lovino's side of the story!**

**Chapter 4-**

Breakfast was delicious, but it was a blur. Feliciano erupted into tears twice, pulling Aria and Roma away to try and appease him. Antonio tried to perk the boys up, starting up another story about his father and how they used to work on their family's tomato farm in Spain. "We had a bad winter one year and it ruined the tomatoes," Antonio was explaining when Aria came back, Roma following soon after with Feliciano once again in his arms. "_Mi madre _was ready to leave for America because of that year's bad harvest, and after Christmas we packed up and headed west. I had to learn English in half a year- it was pretty hard, because Spanish is so much simpler than English."

"Why is it that we speak English if we live in America?" Alfred asked, having barely ate any of his eggs and sausage. Lovino was confused to still see him so tired after having slept all night.

But then again, at some point in the night, Lovino had woken up to the sound of crying. It was quiet and nearly unnoticeable, so he had pinned it on Feliciano inside. But now that he thought about it… could it have been Alfred? Antonio hadn't told him _why _Alfred had come to spend the night with them, but he had said something about his dad…. Something couldn't have happened after they left, could it? They were just going to church- Lovino went to church too, and nothing bad had ever happened to him. Sometimes he was taken by surprise when someone started to shout, but that never hurt him either.

Lovino zoned back into the conversation right as his father finished a heavily condensed version of the beginnings of America's history. If there was one thing Lovino knew his father loved, it was talking and telling stories. Every night, while Aria tucked Feliciano in, Antonio would tell him a story before tucking him in and wishing him sweet dreams. He would never admit it, but Lovino loved his stories about Spain and the other set of grandparents he rarely got to see, living so far away in Massachusetts. He could see that his father missed his old home, missed working on his tomato farm.

Lovino shared his father's love for tomatoes- they were _really _good. He smothered nearly everything he ate in ketchup and always asked for an extra tomato slice on his sandwiches. Much to his mother's chagrin, he even liked eating tomatoes raw without cutting it up first, biting into them like an apple.

Antonio suddenly looked down at his watch, a golden Swiss-Italian Bertolucci he had gotten from Roma for Christmas. Just as Aria believed college defined a person, Roma had always believed that every respectable man had to have a watch- and if that watch had been even remotely somewhat Italian, Roma practically declared it a sacred piece of honor.

"It's about time we headed back to the hospital, Alfred. Do you want to come, Lovino?" he asked, beaming at the two boys like they had become best friends over night. "Do you want me to bring Feliciano along, Aria? Oh! Did you hear that Lovino fed him by himself last night?"

But Aria had already gotten from her seat, ducking back into the living room to retrieve Feliciano's baby bag. Figures she wouldn't bother to care that Lovino was able to fix up Feli's milk and warm it up by himself. Roma's face lit up at Lovino's feat. "Good job, Lovi! My, you're so smart! Much like your _Nonno_ here," he chuckled ever so humbly, donning his famous smirk.

_Good job. You're so smart. You're just like your Grandpa Roma!_ Lovino had heard it over and over for years. His family would congratulate him over and over for the smallest feats, only taking notice when his father finally told them. Aria and Roma would otherwise never notice that he practically cared for Feliciano as much as Aria and Antonio did. And oh, he definitely knew he was just like his _abuelo_- _nonno _in Italian. _Everyone _told him that.

Lovino and Roma were nearly spitting images of each other. They had the same shade of handsome, dark auburn hair, the same amber eyes, and, apparently, the same high intelligence. Sometimes, Lovino honestly thought Roma had the intelligence of a four-year-old like himself. He loved Feliciano and Lovino dearly, but he was always cracking jokes here and sleeping like his life depended on it over there on the couch. _Always. _When Feliciano was crying for food, when Lovino was bored and wanted someone to play with- Roma wouldn't even notice. Aria told him that _Nonno _was a busy man, teaching at a prestigious university like Harvard and painting masterpieces on Da Vinci's level in his free time. It was naturally very taxing on him and he should let _Nonno _sleep.

Even if he was their babysitter when Aria was out shopping and Antonio was at work.

Frankly, Lovino didn't care. When his grandfather came to visit (practically every weekend, sometimes for an entire summer), his grandmother, Damaris Vargas, usually opted to stay home because she hated traveling. Lovino hardly ever got to see his Greek _abuela_. He learned to cook pasta from Antonio and, when he was taking a break from napping and telling jokes Lovino had heard twenty times each, Roma. He couldn't do it on his own, though. Aria and Antonio wouldn't let him near the stove unless they were there and helped him with everything.

He was turning into such a _housemaid_. Cooking, sometimes having to help with horrible housecleaning, taking care of the baby…. He was like Spongebob on that episode where he and Patrick adopted the clam.

It was honestly quite sickening.

"Make sure you feed him twice before lunch," Aria said the instant she came back with Feliciano and his bag of toys and such Feli really didn't even care the least about. He was just fine playing with Lovino's fingers. "Be back home before three. I have that benefit dinner at the church. Lovino, be sure to remind your father to be on time, alright? _Mamma _loves you."

"_Te amo!_" Antonio called behind him, Feliciano's bag on his shoulder, the baby in his arms, and Alfred and Lovino at his sides. "See you at dinner, Roma!"

((((()))))

"…probably going to sell the house," Francis sighed as they entered the room. Lovino cocked an eyebrow at Matthew eating an ice cream cone. The three-year-old seemed to be doing well, having moved from his hospital bed onto Francis's lap. He broke into a smile at seeing Alfred again, sliding onto the floor to rush over and meet him.

"Good morning!" Antonio cheerfully announced. "I brought the kids! Seems you're feeling better, Matthew."

The blonde shyly nodded, leading Alfred over to the second bed in the room.

Lovino hated hospitals. They smelled like old people and cleaning supplies, like the ones under the sink that Aria always told him to keep away from. The color was bland, the halls were too long and too quiet, and it was nothing like on TV where there was always an emergency going on. It was like the place was completely empty. Lovino marched over to the open bed and climbed up on it, declaring he was sitting there until they were ready to leave. Antonio simply handed him Feliciano, allowing him the "ultimate honor of a big brother" by holding him.

He started to like hospitals a bit more after that.

The room was so much lighter and happier with the newest additions- but when Alfred caught sight of Arthur, pale and laying still on a bed beside Francis, he froze. Arthur gave him a weak smile, holding out the hand that wasn't hidden under the blanket. "Well? Are you going to give me a hug or not, Alfred?"

The four-year-old threw himself at his father, only to be held back by Francis. "Be careful," the blonde warned, forcing a smile on his face as well. "Shorty is breakable."

"Shut your mouth, Frog," Arthur glared back. "I'm only an inch shorter than you! Well, this arm isn't breakable at least."

"Daddy… you're wearing one of those hospital gowns," Alfred noticed with the sleeve. His eyebrows suddenly furrowed in thought. "Does that mean… you have no pants on?"

This was one of those moments where Arthur wondered if Samantha had been wrong about the Kirkland genes, because sometimes he acted _so much _like her that it honestly astounded him. Alfred giggled. "You're wearing a dress. Like what _girls _wear. Don't tell me that next you're gonna get girl hair like Francis!"

"GIRL HAIR!" Francis burst at a very interestingly high pitch. "M-my hair is beautiful! Gorgeous!"

"Papa, you're hurting my ears," Matthew quietly complained. No one in the room heard him. Sighing, Matthew snuggled his polar bear close. "You hear me, right?" Even though there was no response, the blonde smiled and hugged it close, like it was quite honestly the only friend he had left.

"Ah! F-Feliciano, don't cry! You dummy, I told you to give me his milk! The MILK!" Laying Feliciano directly in the middle of the hospital bed- _he's so wrapped up that he won't be able to roll off!_- Lovino hopped off of the bed and started tugging at the oblivious Spaniard's sleeve.

"Ha~, I'm so glad everyone's happy~!" said Spaniard cheerfully gushed, smiling at the spectacle in front of him. He finally paid attention to Lovino, trying his best to jump up and retrieve Feliciano's bottle from the bag on his shoulder. "I'll feed him, it's okay," Antonio said with a ruffle of his dark auburn hair. "How about you go and say hello to Arthur?"

Lovino sighed and slugged over to where Arthur and Alfred were still half-heartedly joking about his wearing a "dress". Lovino hadn't ever seen someone in the hospital, aside from Aria when Feli was born, but he didn't count that. He wasn't _nervous_, but felt out of place among the joking friends and family. Lovino didn't know any of these people, really. Antonio was their friend; not Lovino.

"Well," Arthur started quietly once everyone had settled down, "I think it's about time we talked about what we're going to do."

Francis nodded, lifting Matthew and his bear back on his knee. "Jeanne… is gone now, so it's going to be hard for me to keep paying on the house. How do you feel about moving in beside Arthur and Alfred?"

Matthew went silent for a while. After pulling his bear closer than Lovino thought was possible, he offered a small nod, keeping his eyes locked on the small potted plant in the room's corner. Lips trembling, Matthew quietly said, "That's alright."

Lovino frowned. _You don't mean that at all. If you don't want to leave home, why don't you tell him?_

But Francis didn't seem to grasp Matthew's obvious lie. "I'm going to have to sell the house, Mattie. Are you sure you're alright with that?"

"It'll be empty without Mama and her things," Matthew said. His bear practically seemed to swallow him whole, hiding his face from everyone else. "That'll be okay. Alfred and I can play more, right?"

The four-year-old nodded, ecstatic. "And then you can come stay over with me! Can he, Daddy?"

"I suppose," Arthur grinned. Matthew shyly returned it before hiding himself behind his bear once more.

Antonio returned from wherever he had gone with Feliciano, his smile lifting the dismal air again. The light banter seemed to pick up right where it left off, like it was impossible to remain morose and serious with Antonio Fernandez-Carriedo in the room. Lovino had to credit his father for that- he was an instant room-brightener. The Spaniard sat down in only available chair, looking to Lovino hopefully as if to ask, _Are you sure you don't want to sit on my knee?_

But Antonio had left him alone while everyone was arguing. Lovino set his jaw and stubbornly crossed his arms, purposely taking a step away from Antonio and Feliciano, fast asleep. Antonio sighed, but redirected his happy-vibes on Arthur. "How bad was your arm?" he dared to ask.

"Crushed. It'll be a while before I can use it again. That's about it, besides the ribs. I can't sleep on my side anymore," Arthur grumbled, distastefully scowling at his side. "I'm sorry, Alfred, but I won't be able to go home for a few more days."

"He can stay with us again!"

"What about the dinner _Mamma_ is hosting tonight?" Lovino reminded him.

Antonio paled, looking down at his watch. "Shoot, you're right. And I'm supposed to pick up groceries- maybe tomorrow night, okay?"

"You have to take _Abuelo _home."

"The next day?"

"Preschool ori… whatever it is!"

Antonio bit his lip, thinking of a solution. If he was too busy, then maybe…. "Aha! Francis can stay with the kids! We've got plenty of room for all of you! And maybe while we're at it, we can see if Gilbert, Roderich, and Elizabeta can come! It'll be just like old times!"

Francis smirked at the prospect. "And how would Aria take this? Don't you already have company, anyway?"

"She'll be okay," Antonio decided, whipping out his phone. "I'll go ahead and tell her!"

Lovino frowned, doubtful that his mother would go along with something like that. She had blew up at him for bringing Alfred, and if Francis and Matthew came over too…. While Antonio excitedly explained his plans to Aria, speaking rapid and fast. Aria's explosion was heard plain as day, as if she were in the room with him.

"I REFUSE TO LET THAT LECHEROUS FRENCHMAN INTO HOUSE!"

"But Aria-"

"No! _Senior year after prom_, Antonio."

Antonio gave Francis a dirty look, to which Francis groaned into Matthew's shoulder. The blonde didn't seem to mind, yawning and laying his head on the bear, ready for what was likely his tenth nap that morning. "But we have to give him _some_ credit, Aria," Antonio said at last, forcing himself to remember that high school was ten years ago, and that _surely _Francis had changed at least _a little bit _for the better. "It was mostly Yao's fault, though. I mean, he and Arthur locked him in the room with Samantha…. And I'm pretty sure she spilt the fruit punch on your carpet, not Francis."

"Um… actually…."

"Frog, you're not making this any better," Arthur despondently reminded him.

In the background, they all heard Roma curse in Italian. "This game is horrible! The walking mushrooms keep making me smaller- GAH! I'LL SHOW YOU TO GIVE THE GREAT ROMA VARGAS A GAME OVER! IT'S ON LIKE DONKEY-KONG!"

"Oh, great," Lovino grumbled, "_Abuelo _found the Mario. Looks like it's going to be _Chrono Trigger _all over again…."

"_Papà_, shush, I'm talking to Antonio. No, no, you jump over the mushrooms…. Yes, like that. Antonio, tell Francis to loaf around someone else. You haven't been to Wal-Mart to pick up those blueberries and cranberries yet, have you? I need them for my fruit salad!"

Antonio ignored her quip about the berries, walking closer to the door out of Arthur, Francis, and the children's earshot. "Where are they supposed to go then, Aria? Roderich and Elizabeta have probably already left for his show. Yao has his thirty-so children to deal with, and you know he doesn't take kindly to Lovino after he and Xiao Mei got into that hair fight…."

"Lovino is coming with me tonight."

The four-year-old put on his best completely-and-utterly-disgusted face. He _hated _going to his mother's obnoxious dinners so her obnoxious friends could coo over him. Until she pulled out Feliciano, her secret weapon, and all attention would then be directed on him. Usually she sent Antonio running around here and there the _entire time_. And as much as hated to admit it, Antonio could actually be fun if he ever shut up about Spain this and tomatoes that.

And if Alfred and Matthew went with them, they could play pirates again. Maybe this time with Francis and Antonio as the bad guys instead of the worn and abused coat rack in the foyer. And on the brighter side to that, Aria wouldn't fuss at him anymore.

Basically, Lovino's life would be ten times more wonderful if he _didn't go with Aria._

"Well, he was hoping to play with Alfred again. Yes, Arthur's boy, he stayed the night with us, remember?" Antonio lightly reminded her. "And I'll take care of Feliciano, too. Roma is staying home, isn't he? I'll even cook dinner for him!"

Aria testily sighed. "No, Antonio. I don't even have the house cleaned. Why don't you call Gilbert or someone? Why can't he just go back to his house?"

"I think I will call Gilbert, then. Even though he has Heilrich to take care of for Roderich and Elizabeta and no doubt all kinds of other things to deal with," Arthur and Francis winced at his sarcasm. Antonio rarely got mad about anything, let alone Aria, but this was cutting his temper pretty darn close. "Because I'm sure he'll be nicer to his old high school friend who just _lost his wife _and nearly his best friend."

Antonio could practically see Aria's argumentative smirk "Perfect. I'm sure Heilrich and Feliciano will enjoy each other's companies since you're stealing him away again, denying him the opportunity to go to church. Go ahead and take Feliciano, too," Aria replied with the same amount of sarcasm. "I have to go, Antonio. I'll send my father after the fruit, okay? Have fun with Francis and Gilbert."

"Wait a minute, don't hang…." Antonio sighed, putting his phone away.

Arthur had gotten quieter, Alfred taking notice. The light-haired boy took his father's hand and quietly assured him, "Aria isn't like Mommy. She won't run away. It's okay, Daddy."

_I knew it. She always hangs up and gives him the okay, then she'll yell at him later. And then… then he'll fix her dinner to make her happy again. Why do you keep doing that?_

When Antonio frowned, every bit of happiness in the hospital seemed to blink out of existence. "I'm sorry, Francis. She's probably just stressed about this dinner and Roma playing video games again probably isn't helping her nerves."

Lovino scowled up at Antonio. _So, just like that, you forgive her, huh?_ Antonio noticed and sat him up on his knee with one arm, still holding Feliciano in the other. Lovino didn't struggle to get off and away; not after Antonio had just saved him from an afternoon of playing "look how cute my kids are!" with Aria. But since he was still mad at him for not getting mad at Aria like he should have, Lovino stubbornly crossed his arms and ignored him.

"It's fine," Francis replied airily. "We can take Alfred home with us. It's not like my house is quarantined."

"Go to my house," Arthur commanded softly. "You don't need to face that yet. Dr. Zwingli returned my keys, didn't she? Alfred can show you which room."

Francis cast him a withering look, but, to everyone's surprise, didn't argue. Neither Francis nor Arthur looked like they had the energy to do so- not anymore. Matthew and Alfred exchanged worried looks with each other, turning to Antonio once again. Alfred ducked under Arthur's arm and shimmied over to the Carriedo's, hoping for another spark of brilliance from Antonio to cheer them up. The Spaniard turned on his smile again and happiness seemed to return. "We'll do something. Maybe we _can _break into Gilbert's house. Wanna play with Ludwig, kids?"

Before Francis or Arthur could argue about accommodations, Antonio was already gushing an ecstatic "_Hola_, Gilbert!"

((((()))))

"Welcome to the awesome Beilschmit residence, guys! Francis, you can have the guestroom upstairs. Antonio, you get Ludwig's bed. Kiddies, you're piling together in the living room. Now," Gilbert clapped his hands together, spinning on his heel to face the motley group, "Let's all head over to Helda's kitchen for some wurst- best stuff you'll ever eat." Gilbert had been completely chipper to hear that his two best friends needed a place to stay for the night, instantly preparing rooms and begging Helda to fix "a completely AWESOME" dinner for their sudden guests.

Heilrich was fast asleep in a basket of all things, Ludwig watching close over his cousin. However, the first instant Antonio carried in Feliciano, the two babies woke up with an ear-splitting wail, crying in sync.

Ludwig freaked out. He ran out of the cozy living room, shouting for his mother. Instead came three humongous German Shepherd pups to tackle into him. "_MUTTER_!"

"Haha, it's okay, Ludwig! I'll take care of these two," Antonio chuckled, messing up his blond hair. Ludwig rose up to his feet, successfully pushing the three hyperactive dogs off of him. Combing back his hair to its original position, he stepped out of the way to let Antonio work his magic. "Alrighty, Mr. Heilrich! Meet Feliciano!"

Almost like it _was _magic (which Ludwig's eyes went huge over), the two stopped upon being laid next to each on the floor. Feliciano giggled, rolling over and slapping Heilrich's hand. "HE ROLLED OVER!" Antonio burst. "Did you see that? SO CUTE, FELI!"

"Oh, boy," Lovino sighed. "Hey, blond kid. Wanna play pirates with us?"

Ludwig blinked before nodding. "Sure. We can go outside until dinner's ready."

((((()))))

Dinner was interrupted several times by the three German Shepherd pups butting up under the table in an attempt to steal wurst. Gilbert eventually had to lock them outside. Until they started whining, which made Gilbert feel terrible, and he brought them back.

Unless he was directly spoken to, Francis remained silent the entire afternoon. No one pressured him into talking, and no one brought up Jeanne or Arthur. Of course Alfred nearly talked their ears off about Arthur's escapades, but there was nothing about the wreck.

The children finished early, disappearing into the house, the sounds of pretend pirates fights and exclamations of finding hidden treasure echoing all around.

As for Francis, he went straight to bed, exhausted over having staying up nearly an entire day.

Francis had held up strong thus far, he supposed, but the sight of an empty bed nearly made him stagger. He lay down on the left, as he was wont to do because Jeanne had always thought the right side of the bed to be softer.

The bare space beside him nearly swallowed him whole. Cold emptiness creeped over him, chilling him until tears formed in his eyes.

"_Mr. Bonnefoy…. We're terribly sorry, but… we couldn't save her. She already lost too much blood. She wasn't in any pain, we believe. The door jarring into her side broke her back, numbing half of her body. We couldn't do anything. She was already too far gone."_

Warm, salty tears rolled down his cheeks. The room was dark, the shadows hiding his shame, but the silence wasn't as kind. Normally Jeanne would be turning over on her side, smiling at him, before her breath quieted and peaceful slumber took over. He would smile back, kiss her forehead, and remind her once again how beautiful she was.

He figured that she'd look just as beautiful in her casket, dressed in her best dress, hands crossed over her chest in peaceful slumber. Francis would make sure they placed a rose in her hands- a crimson rose, deep and rich in color. The color of her flustered face when they first met on the streets of Orléans. Francis, in college at the time, had gone to study abroad in France. Jeanne had gotten lost from her friends and Francis was the only one who bothered to stop and help her find her way again. When it was time to move back to the states, Jeanne, an English major, went with him.

Could her family make it in time for the funeral? It was just a day away. With Aria's busy schedule and her seeming not to care about the wreck and the terrible pain it had brought, Francis doubted she would show unless Antonio somehow egged her to come. Elizabeta and Roderich would show for sure. In fact, Roderich had already promised to play during the funeral. Probably his very self-composed Lullaby 4, Jeanne's favorite.

And Matthew…. Honestly, Francis wasn't very sure Matthew realized that Jeanne wouldn't be coming back, yet. He probably thought she was only visiting heaven- not there for good. Would he cry to when he saw his mother lying there, never to sit up? Never to hug him or kiss him good night?

Francis almost didn't hear the quiet knock on the door. The blonde quickly wiped off his tears and weakly called, "Come in."

The same small angelic little boy he was just thinking of stepped in, clutching his bear close. "Um…," he started, quiet enough that Francis had to concentrate to catch his words, "Mr. Kumajiro wanted to know if you wanted him to sleep with you."

Francis blinked. "Mr. Kuma…. Your bear?"

Matthew nodded, nervously looking down at the floor. "W-well, I told him you used to sleep with Mama, and he was worried you'd feel lonely without her, so he said he'd sleep with you."

Despite the harsh ice slowly freezing in his chest, Francis mustered a small smile. "Alright. Mr. Kumajiro, you can sleep here."

But Matthew hesitated, looking down at the bear. He waited a moment, as if he were listening to the bear, before asking, "Are you sure, Mr. Kumakichi? Um, Papa, he said he… doesn't want to leave me, either. Even though he knows Alfred wanted to stay up with me and play pirates."

Francis could see where this was going. The Frenchman patted the pillow beside him. "Alfred has Lovino and Ludwig to play with, and if Mr. Kumo… Kuma… um, the bear wants to sleep here, I suppose you can too."

"_Merci_, Papa," Matthew smiled, crawling into bed with him. He securely placed his polar bear in the very middle of the bed- "So he can be with both of us"- and snuggled as close as he could to Francis. "Good night, Papa."

Matthew was asleep in an instant, pale hair falling in his face, hiding the tiny tears falling. Francis put his arm over him, burying his own tears into the bear. "_Je t'aime, Mattieu_. If… if I had lost you too, I'd…."

_I can't lose you. You're all I have left of Jeanne. You wonderful little boy, always so sweet and kind. I can't lose you._

"_Je t'aime. Je t'aime. Je t'aime, Mattieu…._"

((((()))))

"So, Aria kicked you out?" Gilbert asked lowly, pulling out another blanket from Ludwig's closet.

Antonio quickly shut the door. "Don't tell Lovi, alright? But… but I think Aria is going to issue a divorce."

"Come on, Tonio, don't think like that," Gilbert said. Of course Antonio didn't believe him, frowning. The Beilschmit flicked the blanket out before falling forward on it himself. "You told me yourself: she's just stressing. Women do stuff like that, you know? It'll be alright, man."

They both paused a moment, hearing Alfred storm by, cackling about how he stole Lovino and Ludwig's treasure for himself. Matthew had quickly gotten tired of their game, opting to join Francis instead of hang out downstairs with Helda and the babies, both of which were thankfully asleep.

When their voices disappeared further down the hall, Gilbert sighed. "You're the awesomest guy ever- after me, that is- and she'd be completely stupid to try and shove you away from the kids. Lovino practically hangs off your hip."

Antonio wryly grinned at the mention of Lovino. He yelled a lot and absolutely loved being stubborn, but Antonio knew Lovino loved him all the same. He just had a quirky way of showing it. But with another sigh, Antonio's smile faded. "…I'm scared," he admitted, not noticing how Lovino had backpedaled to the door, now listening in. "I'm afraid she's going to leave and I won't ever see the boys again. I don't want to lose any of them."

Outside, Lovino frowned.

_If Mom leaves, I'm definitely not going with her. Me and Feli will stay with you._

Setting a stubborn, sure expression on his face, Lovino burst into the room, taking both Gilbert and Antonio by surprise. "I'm staying with you," he said flatly. "I don't want to have to stick around _Mamma's _awful fruit salads and _Abuelo's _snoring." He didn't bother to mention that he'd miss going camping and playing with Antonio, even though he would.

Antonio smiled and pulled him into a crushing hug. "_Gracias, mi _Lovi. _Te amo. Te amo tu madre y tu hermano, tambien._"

"I love you too," Lovino mouthed, figuring that letting him hug him every once in a while wasn't so bad after all.

**Translations:**

**Spanish**

_**Mi madre- my mother**_

_**Te amo- I love you**_

_**Hola- hello**_

_**Gracias, mi Lovi- Thank you, my Lovi.**_

_**Te amo tu madre y tu hermano, tambien- I love your mother and brother, too.**_

**German**

_**Mutter- Mother**_

**French**

_**Merci- Thank you**_

_**Je t'aime- I love you**_


	5. Chapter 5

**Not that this is a spoiler or anything… heh heh… but does anyone know a last name for Lars or Alice? And is Alice even Belgium's name? **

**And I apologize again the late chapters. My internet was out for two weeks, and so I'm posting the two I wrote in that period of time now. I'm sorry, and hopefully something like this won't happen again! *chapter six will be up tomorrow***

**Chapter 5-**

Arthur's hospital room was quiet and peaceful, just the way he liked.

But quite honestly, he would have rather been in a cramped room with fifty Francises and Alfreds than to be left alone with his thoughts.

"How bad is Jeanne, Francis?" he had asked. And then his face- his _face_….

Arthur had done it. He had foolishly rammed into that other car, sending them spinning into the cliff side. He had gotten Matthew's arm broken. _He had killed Jeanne._ Francis and Jeanne were his best friends. His only friends, really. Sure, he had been on Gilbert and Antonio's soccer team, but they hadn't done much together outside of the sport. They were more friendly acquaintances than true friends. But Arthur didn't doubt for a second that they wouldn't help them through this. Gilbert may be obnoxiously self-centered and Antonio may very well be the most spacey man on the planet, but they were good people.

Good people who didn't murder their best friend's wife.

Francis _hated _him now. He had to! The wreck wasn't an accident- it had been fully on account of Arthur's stupidity. He was worrying about the stupid rain instead of paying attention to the other car. He was completely at fault!

_How is it that I'm alive when I'm at blame?_

Amidst blaming himself, it was the number one thing on his mind: Jeanne, if she had been driving, wouldn't have made a careless mistake. No one would have been hurt. But Arthur had been, and everything had turned out horribly.

What was even worse than the ordeal, he was… beginning to miss Samantha again.

It was terrible times like these that he desperately missed her smile, her jokes, her brash mannerisms. She would have made everything easier to cope. But Samantha wouldn't be giving him any consolation anytime soon. Samantha was gone.

Gone from his life forever like Jeanne.

Maybe this was penance, his guilt, for getting so angry with Francis and Jeanne after Samantha left. They were perfect together, loved each other so much, and Arthur couldn't understand why things hadn't turned out so well for him. Francis was now just as heartbroken as he had been, and Arthur had a new reason to blame himself for things out of his control.

A sudden knock on the door pulled Arthur away from his thoughts. Surely it was too early for Francis and Alfred to be back so soon…. "Come in?" he called, almost frightened to see who would come through the door. Dr. Zwingli with that hated report, telling him they were wrong about him not being paralyzed? Someone to come tell him his Alfred hated him for killing Jeanne, the woman who was practically a mother to him? Arthur wouldn't be very surprised with either. He hated himself so much at the moment.

But it was a stranger, a man with dark hair and a long beard. A thin girl with bobbed pale brown hair walked in behind him, looking like she was in middle school, holding the hands of a four-year-old little boy. A blonde two-year-old girl with the prettiest bow in her hair had her arms wrapped tight around the boy. The man slightly gaped in shame before clearing his throat. "I am Morozko Braginski."

"You were the other driver," Arthur finally choked out. "Oh, no…. Tell me you weren't hurt as well. Your children?"

"We are fine," Morozko assured him, closing the door behind him. "I was concerned for your health. I hope I am not unwelcome?"

With his thick accent and unusual way of speaking, Arthur deduced he wasn't from America originally. He sounded… Russian? Morozko quietly directed his three children to the chairs against the wall. "I am paying for your hospital bills," he said firmly, a look in his eyes telling Arthur that there would be no arguing.

"…Why? I'm the one who crashed into you. I should be paying you for the repairs to your car," Arthur said slowly. A dull pain had erupted in his ribs again, his pain killers obviously starting to wear off again.

"There was no damage," Morozko lied. "My family is very well off upon coming to America. It will not hurt us to help you. You need to recover quickly so you may be with your son again."

Arthur's eyes went wide at mention of Alfred. "How do you know Alfred?"

"We were interrogated in the waiting room while you were in surgery. Your son was very anxious to see you. I believe he was worried no one would be with you because you have no wife."

_Must Alfred always tell everyone that Samantha is gone? _Aloud, Arthur angrily burst, "They _interrogated _a _four_-year-old?" The outburst sent a sharp jab of pain racing through his side. Arthur couldn't stop himself from hissing in pain.

"Katyusha, _poluchit medsestra_," Morozko said sharply. The eleven-year-old nodded and was out the door in a second.

"I'm fine," Arthur gasped, but Morozko gave him an irritated scowl.

"You are injured. Where is the other boy?" Morozko asked, suddenly remembering Matthew had been hurt too.

"At the funeral," Arthur sighed. With his good hand he rubbed his forehead. "I don't deserve your money, Mr. Braginski. If you want to help, you may want to speak with Francis Bonnefoy."

At his questioning look, Arthur frowned. "Francis is Matthew's father and was Jeanne's husband."

"Mr. Kirkland?" Dr. Zwingli interrupted at the door. Katyusha peeked over her shoulder at her two siblings; Ivan had sat the younger, whom he called Natalya, on his lap. Her eyes were drooping into unconsciousness despite the intrusion. "I apologize-"

"No no," Arthur quickly told her. "It was my fault. I got too excited, silly me."

Zira nodded. She didn't pry into things she wasn't meant to know. "Just take it easy, Mr. Kirkland. Good day to you, too, Mr. Braginski."

"I will pay," Morozko decided, giving no thought to Arthur's wishes. "_My uezzhaem, deti._"

Arthur sighed. Right before Morozko disappeared into the hall, the Englishman quietly called, "Thank you."

"_Do svedanya_," Morozko cheerfully replied.

_I don't deserve this kindness…. Why am I getting it?_

((((()))))

"You know you can ask us for anything, Francis," Roderich finally said. The funeral had ended nearly an hour ago but the Frenchman and his son hadn't moved from their spot on the front pew. Matthew had sat in silence the entire time, clutching his bear (that seemed to have a different name every three seconds) close. Alfred was with Antonio and Aria eating ice cream down the street, leaving them the only three left in the chapel.

Francis didn't look away from Jeanne's casket, already closed, but did offer a small smile. "I'm afraid no one but the good Lord above can give me what I want right now. But," he conceded, "you can learn to play _La Mer_. I think that would have made Jeanne happy. It was her favorite song, you know. After your lullaby, of course."

"_La Mer_?" Roderich asked, already straying back to piano in the corner of the chapel. "How does it go?"

"It means 'the sea'," Francis first explained.

Then, quietly, he began to sing.

"_La mer…. Qu'on voit danser le long des golfes clairs. A des reflets d'argent_…." Matthew quietly looked up at his father, singing in a sweet low voice, something Matthew had never heard before. Jeanne used to love to sing. Matthew knew _Amazing Grace _in both English and French, and he could sing part of _I'll Fly Away_, too. Francis sang better than Jeanne had, in Matthew's opinion. Roderich had picked up in Francis's key, playing by ear to the tune he quickly picked up on.

"_La mer…. Des reflets changeants, sous la pluie_…."

It wasn't long after that that Matthew's eyes began to droop and he began to lean into Francis's shoulder, the one thing more comforting than Mr. Kumajiro. Jeanne used to be comforting like this, too. Matthew liked sleeping on her lap better than in his own bed. Then again, he would rather be with Jeanne than anywhere else. But this heaven… it was far away. Too far for him to get to yet, Francis had told him.

_Papa… I don't want you to leave like Mama. I don't want you to leave me._((((()))))

Another stupid argument.

Lovino wasn't even sure what this one was about. But as always, he sat alone in the living room, untouched Legos scattered in front of him. Feliciano had started crying amongst their arguing, and, for once in what seemed like years, they paused long enough to take care of him. Lovino was just glad they hadn't dumped the baby off on him.

But then again, he kind of wished Feliciano had been his responsibility that afternoon. He was so _bored_. Lego blocks and video games got tiring quickly, Antonio always seemed to be away at work and Aria always paid more attention to Feliciano than him. Scowling at the doorway to the kitchen where Aria had resumed her bout of yelling, Lovino huffily rose and marched upstairs, actually missing Roma for once. Roma was incredibly lazy and almost always asleep, but at he paid attention to Lovino.

That is, after he gushed over Feliciano a few minutes.

It was all about his brother. Feliciano this, Feliciano that. It seemed that the only time Lovino was thought about was when he got into trouble- most times just for the attention. He was tired of being ignored! So what if he wasn't as little as Feliciano? He was older! Shouldn't he have been doted on, too? At the very least _acknowledged?_

Lovino didn't get it. Why was Feliciano so much more important than him? Why was Feliciano more _loved?_

And before Lovino even knew it, he was sitting in the middle of the hallway crying. He hated crying for no reason, but he couldn't seem to stop. It just seemed right that he did cry.

Maybe someone would come running for him like they did for Feliciano. Maybe they'd ask him what was wrong, what he needed, and maybe, unlike Feliciano, he'd tell them.

But as the minutes passed by and crying turned into sniffling, Lovino remained alone.

((((()))))

**One Week Later**

"Welcome to the _Château d'Francis_!" the blonde gushed, unlocking the door to his new apartment.

Which was, to Arthur's disdain, right next door to him. Needless to say, Arthur was going to have a talk to the landlord soon….

Alfred whooped in glee, grabbing Matthew's hand and dragging him inside, demanding to get the grand tour. Of course, there wasn't much to tour, but Alfred's ecstasy wasn't deterred in the least. With a tired huff, Arthur all but collapsed on the just-moved-in couch. "Hey, you two, watch the curtains in there!" Francis called. The boys all but ignored him. "Coffee, neighbor?"

"Shut your mouth."

"Perhaps a cup of tea, _neighbor_?" Francis said in annoying attempt at a British accent- which he absolutely _butchered_.

Arthur looked up at the snorting Frenchman with a look of pure hate. "Do _not_ make fun of my accent, you bloody French wanker!"

Alfred and Matthew shot back into the living room, the latter keeping a steel grip on his bear while Alfred practically dragged him around. The stopped at the couch where Alfred hopped up beside his father. "This is the best day ever, Daddy."

Francis's grin only widened. And Arthur's mood plummeted. "What're you grinning at, Rapunzel?" he muttered, absently patting Alfred's head with his good hand. The other was in an impossibly heavy cast, hung in a sling that hurt his shoulder and chest when he walked. Francis merely whistled innocently and left to start on lunch. Arthur really didn't want to stick around the Frenchman's new home and eat his atrociously-better-than-his cooking, but Alfred didn't seem like he was going to leave anytime soon. And, of course, there was always the off chance that Francis really _did _have tea, and Arthur never passed up an opportunity for free tea.

Dinner, for once, went smoothly. Arthur and Francis teased each other mercilessly, calling each other as many historically accurate names as possible- "Frank!" "Angle!" "NAPOLEON!" "VICTORIA!" -while Alfred and Matthew, more civilized than their parents laughed at how red their parents' faces got with each minor insult.

"OH MISTER KIRKLAND!" a small voice sang, banging on the door, threatening to send it crashing down.

"Alice," Arthur explained. "She and her brother Lars live down the hall. She's impossibly cute."

Leaning over to whisper, Alfred says, "Lars likes to smoke, so Daddy doesn't like me playing with him. But Alice is okay. She's a year older than me."

Alice, completely ignoring Francis, bounced in and dropped a basket before Arthur. "I went by your room first, but then I heard you talking here. I baked you get-well cookies. Is he the new guy?"

"Francis Bonnefoy," Arthur nodded, graciously accepting the misshapen, half-burnt cookies, all baked no doubt with five-year-old love. "Thank you, Alice."

The little smiled sweetly at the boys, making Matthew blush and Alfred to wave largely. "I can't stay today," she told them, "because Lars is taking me school shopping! I'm going camo!"

"Aww, I wish I was going to school."

"You're too young," Arthur said in an instant, shuddering at the horror of unleashing Alfred upon the poor, unsuspecting teachers at the elementary. They didn't deserve that kind of torture prematurely.

Before Alice skipped away, she stopped before Francis and cocked her head. "You know, you're really loud. Mister Kirkland usually only yells at Alfred. And you sound funny. Buuuut," she drawled, with a sweet smile, "I think I like you. Bye, Mr. Kirkland and Mr. Bonnefoy!"

"Bye Alice!" Alfred shouted as she merrily went on her way, disappearing down the hall. A blonde man with a massive cowlick and scar on his forehead stood waiting for her, watching his neighbors intently. After ushering her inside, Lars gave a curt wave before following after.

"…Does he…?"

"Always look high? Yes. Most times he is," Arthur sighed. "Yes, well, I believe it's about time we went back home, Alfred. We'll see you later, Matthew."

Francis stood up with a start, sliding over to block the door with a smirk. "And what about me?"

"Move, Francis."

"Ahem? I believe that's 'move… _my neighbor with beautiful hair_.'"

"Not a chance!" he burst. "Alfred, attack!"

Shouting in glee, Alfred launched himself at Francis, making him stumble out of Arthur's way. "Thank you, Alfred. You can have your ice cream now."

"Alright!"

After a moment of stunned, amazed silence from Francis, Matthew snorted, unable to hold back his laughter any longer.

Francis sighed, betrayed by his own son. The Frenchman looked down at Matthew, biting his lip in an unsuccessful attempt at hiding a smile. "You know you're supposed to take my side, right?"

Matthew shook his head. "I do not get inv… invo…."

"Involved?" Francis supplied, surprised Matthew knew such a large word. "Well, I guess you'll be my Switzerland."

"Canada!" he burst indignantly. "Canada was on TV yesterday! I'm your Canada!"

And Francis laughed.

((((()))))

"I promise, Aria, I didn't-"

"You did! I checked the bank till this morning, and two hundred dollars was missing! You were the last one out shopping, Antonio, and I know you took it!"

Lovino cast his parents a withering scowl before settling on the couch next to Feliciano in his baby carrier. "She's probably the one who lost it," he muttered. "Besides, it wouldn't matter if _Papá_ took it or not; he never gets anything for himself anyway."

Feliciano looked up at him. Lovino frowned. "Don't you dare cry. See these things hanging down? Play with them."

After Lovino wiggled them around a bit, Feliciano erupted into giggles and started reaching for them. "Thanks, _hermano._"

Then, a sound Lovino had never before heard erupted from the kitchen. "_BASTE! No tomo tu dinero torpe! Y tu sabes qué? Eres una bluja terrible vieja! Yo no tomo este qualquier más!_"

Antonio stomped into the living room. "Lovino, _vamos!_"

"You're not taking my son anywhere!"

"Really?" he shot back, rounding on Aria, not two steps behind him. Lovino, eyes wide, drew his knees up to his chest and shuffled closer to Feliciano. "So you're suggesting I leave him here where no one pays attention to him?"

Aria grabbed Lovino's wrist. "I do pay attention to him! Isn't that right, honey?"

He yanked it back and jumped away from his parents. "Stop it!" he yelled. More angry tears filled his eyes. "Stop arguing! Stop yelling!"

Feliciano started to cry.

"You too!" he burst, throwing an accusing finger at his brother. "You always have to cry, don't you? And then everyone comes running to you! What about me, Feli? No one ever comes to me! Don't touch me, _Papá_!"

Antonio reached his hand back, hurt written all over his face. Lovino dropped to the ground, wiping at his eyes. "No one cares! _No one_! You just want your money, and he just wants you to be happy! Where's room for me and Feli?"

"Lovino, don't say things like that- you know I love you-"

"If you did, you wouldn't yell at _Papá _when he takes me places while you're too busy shopping for useless junk!" Lovino shouted. Tears fell freely down his cheeks, getting the carpet wet before him. "St-stop crying, Feliciano! Stop… stop c-crying…."

Aria and Antonio had gone silent, the guilt gnawing at them telling them everything he had said was absolutely true. Mouth in a hard line, Aria turned to Feliciano to try and calm him down. Lovino visibly flinched when she went to his brother first.

"Lovino, I'm sorry," Antonio quietly apologized, sitting on the floor before him. The four-year-old didn't look up. "Look. Anything you want me to do, I'll do it. This is probably a once in a lifetime chance, Lovi."

His head raised just enough that a pair of amber eyes peered through his bangs. "Anything?" he tested.

"Want me to cluck like a chicken?" Antonio chirping bouncing back up to his feet. "How about I go outside and shout, 'ME AMO MI HIJO!'"

A chuckle escaped Lovino's mouth. "Make me a tomato sandwich!"

"Yes, sir!" Antonio said with a salute.

"And when you come back," he added, "I want you to tell me more about Spain!"

Once Antonio had gone, Aria walked over. Lovino's smile faded. "Lovino, I'm sorry to say that _Papá _won't be staying with us."

"Is that what a divorce is?" Lovino asked cautiously.

Aria blinked in surprise. "Y-yes."

"_Papá_ told Gilbert he was afraid you'd issue one. He doesn't want that."

She rolled her eyes, helping him up to his feet. "I'm sure after today he feels differently. Well, how about I do something for you too?"

Lovino thought a moment, eyes darting back to Feliciano. Sitting down next to his brother, Lovino said, "In this divorce thing, I want Feliciano to stick with me."

Aria smiled and kissed his forehead. "Of course, Lovi. You and Feliciano will be staying with me."

_With you? But…_

Antonio came back with a fancy sandwich, plopping down on the couch beside him. "So, what do you want to know about _España_, Lovi?"

…_But I want to be with _Papá.

Even though he still didn't quite know just what a "divorce" was, Lovino was sure he wasn't going to like it.

**Translations**

**Russian**

_**My uezzhaem, deti- We are leaving, children**_

_**Do svedanya- Goodbye**_

**French**

**Uh… I just got the lyrics. Google Translate messes up the translation, but what I took it to mean was:**

_**The sea, We see it dancing along the clear gulf, A silver reflection. The sea, Its changing reflections, In the rain**_

**And…**

_**Château d'Francis- the grand castle/huge home of Francis**_

**Google? Seriously, why do you hate me when it comes to French?**


	6. Chapter 6

**Anonymous reviewer 1: Don't worry, I won't be quitting just yet! I'm going to try and reply every Saturday each week.**

**Anonymous reviewer 2: Thanks for the names! I may change Lars to Johannes, but for now I guess I'll let it stick a while. I'm sorry about your mom and step dad, but it's good that you guys get to see them. **

**A lot of people will probably hate me for this, but Alfred, Matthew, and Lovino aren't in this chapter. This is mostly exposition for the other characters that'll have major roles in the chapter-after-next when we skip forward about ten years.**

**Yes. I know I'm a fail for updating Monday. Insert excuse here.**

**Little Kiku is adorable. *gushes***

**Chapter 6-**

"Did you walk the dogs, Gilbert?" Helda called when Rose, one of their German Shepherds, came waddling up with a whine.

She furrowed her eyebrows when she didn't get a response. Normally, Gilbert would nervously laugh and promise he was right on it. "Gilbert?" she asked, growing slightly worried at her husband's unusual silence.

Ludwig faithfully took over washing the dishes in her stead, laughing down at Rose when she flipped over on her back and wagged her tail, trying to convince him to stop doing something as boring as the dishes and instead scratch her tummy. He knew it was weird of him to do so, but Ludwig actually _liked _cleaning. When he started helping his mother with the clothes or dishes, Gilbert would sometimes steal him away to play video games, _like a normal kid._ But Ludwig didn't care about normal. He cared about cleanliness and order, even if it was strange that a kid would rather wash the dog than sit down and play a round of _Fantasy Tales _with his dad.

Before Helda even left the kitchen, Gilbert skidded in, panting. "I've got to go!" he burst, turning out of the kitchen and running towards the door. He accidentally slammed it in his hasty escape.

Two seconds later, he came rushing back in. "I've got to go to Elizabeta and Roddy's place," he explained, nervously laughing. "Coming, Ludwig?"

"What's going on now?" Helda asked, almost tripping over Astro and Brooklyn, their other two German Shepherd pups, as they came trotting in to join Rose beside Ludwig. The little boy climbed down out of the chair he was standing on for dishes, nearly being swallowed in the crowd of pups almost already as tall as him. At least, Gilbert and Helda thought, he would grow up big and strong by wrestling ecstatic baby German Shepherds every day.

"Apparently the Fernandez-Carriedo's are stuck in a soap opera. While Lizzie and Roddy deal with Aria, they need someone to keep up with Heilrich!"

"So they called in _you_?"

Gilbert gasped in mock disbelief. "I'm Heilrich's favorite uncle! Besides, I'm great with kids!" he exclaimed with a wide gesture, nearly smacking Ludwig in the face. Luckily, Ludwig, already well used to his father's brand of crazy, ducked just in time.

Helda nodded. "Oh, yes," she sarcastically agreed. "You're quite the nanny, Gilbert. I'll finish the dishes, alright, Ludwig? Make sure he doesn't reenact _Baby's Day Out_."

"Do you know how hilarious that'd be!" Gilbert burst excitedly. Running through the town in hot pursuit of a baby, harrowingly escaping life-and-death situations, and having the _best stinking adventure of a lifetime_ would be _the best _way to spend his Saturday afternoon.

At Helda and Ludwig's withering looks, Gilbert cleared his throat. "Yeah. That'd be terrible. Let's go, Ludwig! Bye, Helda!"

((((()))))

Kiku Honda was the heir to a restaurant that was by no means fancy or classy, but famous all the same: Red Flower, a Chinese place at the local mall. The restaurant had begun with his grandfather, Dàwei, and had thus came into possession of his father, Yao.

So it was only natural that Kiku learn the tricks of business and cooking as early as possible. He sat with his sister Xiao Mei and the twins, Tao and Yong Soo, both going to be one-year-old next month. His father was already preparing the most famous dishes, readying for lunch hour. His mother and the other employees were hard at work setting out silverware and washing tables. Kiku paid close attention to his father and the cooks in the back, noting how they chopped up the vegetables just so and used only a certain brand of salmon for the Japanese sushi. It was his responsibility to know the workings of Red Flower inside and out.

"Guess who's back from California!"

Xiao Mei shot up with a gasp. "Dress! Dress!" she burst, childishly running towards their aunt Tohko.

"I bought the new aprons, too, Yao!" she called, dropping her heavy load of bags on the just-mopped floor. "For you, Xiao Mei," Tohko chirped cheerfully, handing her a bag from Abercrombie Kids. "And for you, Kiku! I got you another book set from Borders! I bought adorable matching outfits from Carter's for the twins!"

His aunt always brought gifts when she came to visit. She and her husband both were both actors- although they weren't very famous yet, they were slowly making their way up the ladder and were already stinking rich. Kiku's father liked to joke that they would forget them and the restaurant some day, but Tohko and Benjamin had faithfully come each year on the anniversary of the restaurant's opening all the way from California as of yet.

Kiku smiled serenely up at his aunt, graciously accepting the bag of books. "Don't be so polite, Chrysanthemum!" Tohko tutted, calling him by the latest nickname. Each time Tohko visited, she invented a nickname for her eldest nephew, all pertaining to something with the name "Kiku". She snapped her fingers, smiling when he took notice of this year's name. "The Chrysanthemum is the national flower of Japan! They say that the Chrysanthemum symbolizes the sun. Even though you're way too young, one day if you put a petal at the bottom of your wine, you'll have good luck."

"That reminds me of _Asian History_, a television series I watched on the _History Then and Now _channel. It was very informative," Kiku explained, flooring his aunt with his outstanding vocabulary.

"H-how nice," she stuttered quietly. "Y-you've really been reading your books, haven't you, Kiku?"

The four-year-old shrugged. "There's not much else to do when I'm stuck in the back of the restaurant during lunch and dinner hours. I greatly appreciate the books, Aunty Tohko."

Finally adjusting to the little genius she was before, Tohko Evans cleared her throat and plastered a smile to her face. "You're very welcome, Chrysanthemum. Next time I come, I'll bring some more challenging books, alright? Did you finish reading the _Mysteries of the Times_ series I got you last year?"

He returned the smile. "Yes, they were a very good read. I particularly enjoyed book seven. It told the story of how Poland named its capital."

"Oh? How did they decide that?" she asked, sitting down at the table with the children. Xiao Mei climbed up on her lap, enveloping her aunt in a hug of thanks.

Kiku's dark brown eyes lit up. "It was so cool!" he burst excitedly, for the first time that afternoon sounding like the kid he was. "Legend says there was a huge, evil dragon under the city that loved making trouble for the villagers. So they called on the wise prince to rid their city of the dragon. The prince tricked the dragon eating rocks, killing it and saving the town! In honor and thanks to the prince, they made that village into the capital of Poland!"

Yao, emerging from the kitchen, chuckled. "He told us that story _at least _thirty times after he finished the book. How are you doing, my dear sister? The aprons are wonderful, by the way."

Tohko smiled up at her older brother. "I'm doing well, thank you, Yao. Ben actually picked them out, so I'm glad you like them. So, I take it you like history, Chrysanthemum?"

He nodded enthusiastically. "Father says Mr. Karpusi is going to love me when I get to high school and take world history. I just can't wait to learn more about the Crusades. Did you know that the good King Richard from _Robin Hood _fought in one of the Crusades? It was the third one, I believe. Anyway, after Frederick of Prussia died on his ship, King Phillip of France and King Richard of Britain got into an argument. Phillip got angry with Richard and invaded Britain, leaving Richard to fight the Crusade by himself. Although they lost the battle with the Turks over Jerusalem, Richard and Britain still defeated France in their war. France was never very good with their wars until Napoleon came, but even he fell eventually. I suppose it just goes to show that you _absolutely do not_ attack Russia during winter."

Kiku's aunt and father stared at him an incredulous moment before recomposing themselves. "Yes, well, that's very interesting, Kiku," Yao, shaking his head in amusement, started, heading back towards the kitchen, "but we need to get set up for lunch hour. We'll be opening in about ten minutes. Could you and Tohko take Xiao Mei and twins to the back to talk?"

"Of course, Father," Kiku politely replied, trustingly taking his little sister's hand. Tohko hefted the twins on either arm, following after the four-year-old leading the way.

((((()))))

Morozko Braginski had been drinking again.

For the first year of being in America, away from the troubles and strife found in Russia, Morozko had kept away from alcohol, instead gratefully working as much as he could, reveling in his and his family's new freedom. But as the months dragged on and bills started overwhelming them, Isaac saw his father disappear more and more often throughout the day, coming home tired and wasted. His mother, Anya Braginski, would save his dinner in the refrigerator for whenever he awoke.

Katyusha, when she wasn't busy with summer online classes and other school-related things, was always with her siblings. The three of them, while their mother cleaned or cooked, would gather on Katyusha's bed. There, she would read to them fairytales and other stories, filling their heads with dreams and fantasies instead of the cruel reality around them.

Although Ivan and Natalya knew that Morozko drank, they didn't know how dangerously close their family was to drifting back into the bankruptcy they were trapped in back in Russia. Katyusha was astounded when her father offered to help pay Arthur Kirkland and Matthew Bonnefoy's hospital bills. Usually he tried his best to save what little money they could find and save it for the dawning day when money would be their only chance. Katyusha wondered if it had anything to do with the little boy, Alfred, he had called himself; and if Ivan's liking towards him had convinced Morozko to help. It was rare that Ivan ever spoke to strangers, let alone children his own age. Even though they had lived in the small mountain town for a year, the Braginski's barely knew anyone. Katyusha had a few friends at school but once they moved on to sports and left the studious Katyusha behind, she doubted they would ever talk again.

Katyusha had to make school her number one priority. With the way things were going for her family financially, and her being the only one who could work anytime soon, Katyusha was forced to study and study hard so she could get a decent job and support them.

Ivan and Natalya were too young to remember the hardships of Russia. Katyusha remembered them well.

America was by far the best thing that had ever happened to the Braginski's, and Katyusha wasn't about to let her dreams of freedom and happiness leave her so soon.

"Ivan, Natalya," she called, tucking her book of fairytales under her arm, "it's story time!"

After story time, it would be straight back to her high school credit online class, psychology. Psychology was hard to learn, and very hard to make sense of, but if Katyusha could become a psychiatrist or therapist, she would someday rake in money.

Ivan and Natalya, again clinging to her brother so sweetly, popped up before her. "What is it today, Sestra?" Ivan anxiously asked.

Katyusha chuckled, leading them to her room, on the other end of the house from her parents' room. In the safe, quiet confines of Katyusha's room, they were free to laugh and cheer without fear of waking their father. "Do you want to try and read today, Ivan?" she asked kindly. The earlier Ivan and Natalya learned things, the better.

After biting his lip in indecision, Ivan nodded. "Will you help me?"

"Of course."

Ivan cleared his throat and quietly began to read, stumbling on a few words here and there. "In the be… begin… beginning, there was a girl named Cin… der… ella. She lived with her two stepsisters and her stepmother who were all cr… cruel to her. Cinderella had to cook and clean while her stepsisters and stepmother went to p… parties and danced. One day, the pr-prince of the land sent out an inv… it… ation?" At Katyusha's nod, he continued. "The prince of the land sent out an invitation for every girl in his k-king… dom to come dance with him so he could marry one of them. Cinderella's stepsisters got dr-dressed for the ball, but her stepmother said Cinderella could not go with them. While Cinderella came, a fairy ap… appeared in her room."

Natalya was already asleep so early in the story, leaning into Ivan's shoulder. Katyusha smiled at the exchange, unnoticed by Ivan, enveloped in trying his best to read _Cinderella_. Natalya was such an innocent little girl, never asking for much but to be with her beloved brother and sister. With Morozko always gone as of late and Anya always working downstairs, Katyusha supposed the job of raising her had fallen upon herself and Ivan.

"…But the clock str-struck mid… night and Cinderella's dress ch-changed back into rags. She ran home, for… forgetting all about the glass slipper she had lost. The very next day, the prince took the slipper to every girl in the kingdom to find Cinderella. At last he came to Cinderella's house. The stepsisters both tried on the slipper but it would not fit their feet. Before the prince left, Cinderella asked to try it on. To every… one's sur… surprise, the slipper fit! The prince asked Cinderella to marry him. She said yes, and became a princess. She never had to work in the ashes of the firepl… place again. Cinderella lived happily ever after."

Once Ivan had finished, he turned to Katyusha and asked, "Do you think we'll end up like Cinderella, _Sestra_?"

"Wh-what do you mean, Ivan?"

"Well," he began, "you always work and study. It doesn't look very fun. I just wish someone would come with a slipper for us so Father would be happy again."

Katyusha caught herself before she frowned. With difficulty, she pulled it up to a smile. "I'm sure Father will be happy if you're happy, Ivan. So will _Mat'_."

Ivan returned her smile and gently shook Natalya awake. "I'll take her back to her room, da?"

"_Spasibo_," she said, watching fondly as they left.

((((()))))

"…my own son! I can't _take _this, Elizabeta!"

The Hungarian frowned, rubbing a crying Aria's shoulder comfortingly. This had gone on for an hour now, her rants about Antonio switching over to crying over Lovino, both of which were busy packing Antonio's things up. The Spaniard, so far, hadn't spoken to anyone since their fallout, save Lovino. He had silently went to work, only opening his mouth to ask what furniture he'd be taking with him.

Thankfully giving her an excuse to leave Aria's flustered side, the doorbell rang. "That's probably Gilbert coming to pick up Heilrich for us," Elizabeta explained.

A pair of arms flew out at her the second she opened the door. "LIZZIE!"

"LET GO OF ME, GILBERT!"

The laughing German pulled away, scooting Ludwig inside. "Come on, Lizzie, it's been a whole week since I last saw you! Besides, I just figured you'd want a hug. Do you want a hug from the awesome me too, Aria?"

"No thank you," she dryly replied, stiffly turning to check on Feliciano at her side.

Gilbert slightly frowned, telling Ludwig to run off and find Roderich and Heilrich for him. After the blonde boy had disappeared out of sight, Gilbert quietly asked, "Don't you think it'd be nice if Antonio got to hang out with the kids before he goes?"

"He has Lovino."

"He loves them _both_."

"So do I!" Aria burst, more tears starting to fall as she rounded on him. "Lovino won't talk to me at all now! He thinks I don't love him or something else crazy like that- I mean, he's my _son_, of course I love him!"

Gilbert sighed. "He's _four_, alright? Kids _think _stuff like that if you leave them alone too much! It probably doesn't help that you fan over Feli so much either. Don't even start to argue with me- I'm unbeatable when it comes to arguing."

Elizabeta nodding, countless bouts they'd had in the past flashing before her eyes. "It's true," she agreed. "It is absolutely true."

"Lizzie has spoken. Now go make me a sandwich, woman!"

"Would you like a _frying pan to the face _with that, Gilbert?"

"Tell Roddy to make me a sandwich?"

Forcefully with a horrifying dark glare, Elizabeta turned his head back to Aria. Gilbert laughed, taking a cautious step away just for good measure and cleared his throat. "But as I was saying, the kid probably doesn't know any better. Take me and Roderich for example: we were practically brothers growing up, you know? Even though I was, like, a _bazillion_ times sexier, awesomer, and-" Catching the warning scowl Elizabeta gave him, Gilbert quickly got to the point. "We were pretty much brothers. But Roddy usually got more attention than the awesome me (but not much, 'cause we all know awesomeness like myself can't be ignored for long) because of his talent for piano. So when he got gifts he actually wanted for Christmas while I got whatever crap my parents and aunt and uncle could think of, I naturally got a little… a little…." Gilbert's eye twitched. The word- the vile, evil word, wouldn't come out of his mouth. Finally, he let everything out in one mighty bellow: "DARN IT ALL, I WAS A LITTLE JEALOUS, ALRIGHT? I MEAN, WHAT THE _HECK_, RODDY GOT A FREAKING SUPER NINTENDO WHILE I GOT A PAIR OF _KNITTED SOCKS_? _WHAT THE HECK, _AUNT EDELSTEIN?"

Growling to himself in German and pouting like a two-year-old, Gilbert spouted nonsense as to why he needed to hurry and leave. Aria and Elizabeta couldn't quite get all of the stupid response for all his muttering, but they did pick out something along the lines of his dog dying because Hannah had fed it the radioactive waste that had turned Ludwig into the macho four-year-old he was.

_This is just like the tantrum he threw at Senior prom when I danced with Roderich instead of him. Such a baby!_

Ludwig and Roderich, balancing Heilrich and all his things, conveniently appeared from the kitchen. Ludwig silently distributed three ice cream cones out before going back to licking his. Aria stared at the treat before her in quiet disdain, like she was somehow glaring at Antonio through use of the ice cream, before taking a bite herself. "_Grazie_," she muttered.

"You should know the drill by now," Roderich tiredly said, handing over his son reluctantly to his cousin, already shoving the ice cream down his throat.

"Yessir. Fed twice in the morning, in the afternoon whenever he decides to, and twice in the evening. Bed time is seven. I must not leave Heilrich unattended at risk of Elizabeta brutally murdering me in the middle of the night with a frying pan and any other kitchen utensils she steals from my kitchen," Gilbert faithfully recited, nodding in place of the salute he couldn't make. The grinning Albino spun on his heel towards the door. "Ludwig, _lasst uns gehen!_"

"And I'll be sure to tell my mother that you didn't like the socks she knitted you for Christmas," Roderich calmly said before slamming the door in his face. "Bye. Ludwig, make sure Heilrich is taken care of, alright?"

"_Ich werde_," his tiny voice said behind the door before rushing after Gilbert, already setting Heilrich up in the car. He slid in next to his cousin, grinning softly when he let out a mighty yawn.

But while Ludwig was smiling, happy to be with his cousin again, Gilbert frowned, sure Aria was making the worst mistake of her life. Antonio was practically a saint- he wouldn't take her money for anything. Everyone knew hated charity; working to make his living. That's the way it had been for him in Spain and he wasn't about to change his ways now.

_I feel for you, big guy. But it's about time you finally spoke up for yourself._

**Translations:**

**Russian-**

_**Sestra- Sister**_

_**Mat'- Mother**_

_**Spasibo- Thank you**_

**German-**

_**Lasst uns gehen!- Let's go!**_

_**Ich werde- I will**_


	7. Chapter 7

**Yes, I dissed Wal-Mart. Wal-Mart is the bane of my existence. When your parents work in the photo lab and is the assistant manager at another Wal-Mart about an hour's drive from us, you seriously develop a sort of love-hate relationship with it.**

**Stupid Wal-Mart.**

**Max and the girls are my lame attempt at the "states" Spain has; called the "comunidades autónomas". There are seventeen of them (listed below), represented by Max's grandkids. Max himself is supposed to represent Spain under Moorish rule (why he has Antonio and Lovino refer to him as their **_**al-arabe **_**grandpa**_**). Al-arabe**_** comes from the Spanish word "**_**arabe**_**" meaning Arabic (what the Moors were) and how many of the words the Moors contributed to Spain began with the prefix "al-". In short, this is my terrible attempt at showing my Spanish teacher that I DO listen in class. XD**

**Los deicisiete comunidades autónomas de España:**

**Galicia- Gail**

**Asturias- Astrid**

**Cantabria- Candace**

**País Vasco- Patty**

**Navarra- Navarre**

**Cataluña- Catherine**

**Castilla y León- Leon**

**Rioja- Rose**

**Madrid- Maddy**

**Aragón- Aaron**

**Comunidad Valenciana- Valencia**

**Extremadura- Trey**

**Castille-la Mancha- Manny**

**Andalucía- Lucy**

**Murcia- Murray**

**Menorca- Noria**

**Mayorca- May**

**Chapter 7**

It was all quite funny, to be honest.

In some strange work of fate, Antonio and Aria had come to America at the same time, respectively from Spain and Italy. Heta High School had always been the kind of school where things spread quickly, so everyone was eager to steal the foreigners away for interrogations. For the first few weeks at Heta, Antonio was surrounded by the Spanish class. They helped him with his English in exchange for lessons in his language. Aria had a slightly easier time, already having known little English from her father at Harvard.

But once the shock had died down and Antonio was eventually left alone, he met Francis and Gilbert.

The two friends knew absolutely no Spanish and for years couldn't understand his accent. It was a game of charades trying to speak with each other. Elizabeta and Roderich, who also made up their fine group, were the ones who first introduced Antonio and Aria. Like with Francis and Gilbert, the Spaniard and Italian didn't have much in way of conversation. But knowing there was someone else who wasn't very fluent in English made learning the language much easier.

While Francis and Gilbert chased after every girl that passed their way, Antonio had fallen in love with Aria at first sight. She was beautiful and smart, two things Antonio really wasn't, but she liked him just the same. He would make her lunch and she'd help him with the dreaded English homework. After Antonio, Francis, and Gilbert's soccer games he'd treat everyone to dinner at the Wang family's restaurant, Red Flower, at the mall. Antonio wasn't exactly made of money like Aria, but he did well enough doing odd jobs here and there on the weekends and over the summer. He could fix anything that came his way- bikes, cars, and broken hearts. Antonio was everyone's go-to when things went wrong.

He was happy to help. After all, it was the least he could do for the friends that'd stuck by him when he first came to America. Even when he was forced to stay after school to try and mend an argument between Francis and Arthur or Gilbert and Roderich (Gilbert was always mad at Roderich for making moves on his "girl", as he liked to call his lifelong friend, Elizabeta), Antonio didn't complain.

More people starting walking over him, shrugging their problems off on Antonio to take care of. It never really bothered him. He could take it all no problem, no complaints. Bottling everyone's cares inside him, Antonio became their perpetually happy shield against the bad things in life.

But he never had anyone to lay his cares on. Most people ignored him or changed the subject, leaving him to carry his burdens alone.

He also grew used to this. Antonio had always been a strong boy- growing up on a farm was a good way get some muscles- so surely he would be alright on his own.

Today, Antonio wasn't sure he could handle things on his own.

The court room was too stuffy and he felt weird dressed in a suit when his usual attire consisted of t-shirts and jeans. Lovino and Feliciano were sitting with Roma and Damaris; their Greek grandmother being present a surprise to everyone. Lovino was shockingly silent, kicking his legs back and forth under his seat. Feliciano was awake but thankfully just as quiet as his brother.

In fact, the only one talking was Aria, trying to convince the judge to allow her full custody of the kids. Antonio wouldn't be okay on his own. Lovino and Feliciano wouldn't be okay on their own! Who was supposed to take care of them when Aria was out and about? Surely she couldn't keep up with both of them at once! His palms started to sweat. Another stolen glance at Lovino showed that the four-year-old was _really_ starting to get bored. He looked up, feeling Antonio's emerald eyes on him. They exchanged a tiny smile before reverting their attention back to Aria, seemingly finished with her speech.

Now for the hard part.

"I… I think the kids should stay with me… because… um…," Antonio stole another look at Lovino, who nodded for him to continue. Antonio cleared his throat. "Because I know them better than anyone else. Lovino will only eat the crust on his bread if you give him two slices of tomatoes. The same goes with taking a bath: he _must _have his tomatoes."

A slight chuckle escaped the judge. Antonio grinned, taking that as a good sign. "And… and Feliciano. He has lots of toys, but he likes playing with people's fingers more. He eats at least five times a day and wakes up every night at eleven for some reason. I guess because he's going to be a night owl or something.

"Both of the boys love each other dearly," Antonio continued. "Lovino takes great care of Feli and Feli would rather play with him than anyone else. I think they'll be okay on their own."

Antonio flinched. _Oh no… probably shouldn't have said that._

The judge cocked an eyebrow. "On their own? Please elaborate, Mr. Carriedo."

"W-well… I'm a mechanic. I figure they could hang out around the shop with me, and when I have to go under the cars or something, they could… I don't know, do what kids do to keep themselves entertained?"

"We're talking about a four-year-old and a baby, Mr. Carriedo."

Aria was trying her hardest to keep the smirk off her face. Antonio was just digging himself into a deeper hole, getting himself in trouble rather than helping. But suddenly, before Antonio could say anything else, a small voice picked up. "Oh, come on! I know I'm four, but I take care of Feli all the time!"

Antonio, Aria, and Roma palmed themselves. Lovino stood up indignantly, every eye in the room turning on him. "And I'd rather stand around in a cool shop with tools than be led around in a mall! I bet Feli would like that too!"

"But wouldn't you miss your mother?"

Lovino nervously looked down at his feet. "Well… yeah. Of course. I love _Mamma_. But I love _Papá_, too. He takes me camping and doesn't fuss at me for stuff like _Mamma._ And he really does know how to make a tomato sandwich. Besides, _Papá_ has funny friends. They're all really nice, too. _Mamma_'s friends are kind of annoying. They talk too loud. Well, so does Arthur, but it's funny when Gilbert and Francis yell at him to quiet down."

The dark-haired four-year-old marched up to the front. "You all are dummies for arguing here, too! Is that all you adults do? Don't you bother to ask me what _I_ want, since you're all arguing over me and Feli?"

"L-Lovino, darling, sit down," Aria nervously twittered, knowing this wasn't going to end well. Nothing _ever _went well when Lovino decided to voice his opinion.

He pursed his lips. "Give _Papá _a chance, will you? I like them both, like I said, but I promised _Papá_ a while back that I'd stick with him if this ever happened. _Papá_ is always really happy, but it's us and _Mamma _that makes him happy. Without us, he'd always be sad."

He paused, letting this all sink in. Aria frowned, certainly not happy at all that Lovino had just chosen Antonio over her in front of all these people. Lovino turned around to the judge. "So how're we going to do this?"

"I figure that if you feel that strongly about all this," the judge started, lacing his fingers with a smile, "I suppose you'll be fine with your father. Are you sure you won't miss your mother too much? This is permanent."

Lovino looked back at Aria, staring at him hopefully, trying to force him with her mind to reconsider. When he turned back, nodding, Aria's lips quivered.

The judge cleared his throat and banged his gavel to make it official. "Antonio Fernandez-Carriedo has custody of Lovino and Aria Vargas has custody of Feliciano. Case dismissed."

"Wait a minute," Lovino burst, amber eyes going wide in fear. "What do you mean, Feliciano is going with _Mamma_?"

"He's just a baby," the judge explained. "He needs his mother- all young children do."

Lovino shook his head, horror written all over his face, turning back to Aria. "You promised me Feli and I would stick together! You can't take him with you!"

"_You're _telling _me _what I can and can't do?" she demanded, dabbing at her eyes. "You just told everyone that I'm trash! I deserve Feliciano more than you!"

That, to Lovino, was the same as saying she loved him more. Lovino shook his head slowly, taking a step back. "I didn't… I didn't say that!" He swallowed back tears threatening to come. "You promised me."

_People don't always keep their promises, _a small voice told him. Lovino gripped the hem of his shirt in order to keep himself from reaching out to Aria. He was going with Antonio. Feliciano… would not be with him. _Permanent_, the judge had said. Lovino knew that word. It meant "forever". Did that mean he would never see Feliciano again? Feliciano needed him! Who else would play with him? Feed him when Aria was arguing?

Lovino caught himself. Aria wouldn't be arguing anymore. She _would _have time to take care of Feliciano. She would have all the time in the world without Antonio and Lovino there. Aria could go shopping in peace, could lose her money and realize she was the one at blame.

She probably wouldn't miss them at all.

"I thought you'd be coming with me," Aria said, suddenly sounding exhausted. "Lovi…." She sighed, standing and going to meet Roma and Damaris with Feliciano.

Roma was instantly before Lovino. The first thing he did was crush him a hug. Lovino had always thought Roma's clothes smelled warm, like cinnamon or something. It always made him feel better for some reason. Roma pulled back, smiling at Lovino. "You're going to grow up big and strong, yeah? Bigger than Antonio and probably bigger than me! And you're going to have the coolest watch ever one day. Trust me, the girls will love it."

"Roma," Damaris playfully warned.

"Haha, just wait until you're older, Lovi. But I want you to smile, okay? All the time. People look up to those who smile and strive to get to where they want to go. It's how you gain respect, and without respect, you can't expect to be someone Feli will look up to one day."

"But-"

Roma ruffled his hair, cutting him off. "I know what I'm talking about. Trust me. You'll see each other again someday, or I'm not the great Roma Vargas! And now that I've said it, you absolutely will meet!"

His _abuelo _stood, pulling Antonio into the next hug. "Keep an eye on this one, Carriedo. He'll be all grown up before you can even blink."

Antonio offered him a tiny, gracious smile. "_Gracias_, Roma. Take… take care of Feli for me, okay?"

"_Prometto._"

Roma gave Lovino a final goodbye, turning back to follow Aria and Damaris outside. He called out behind him that he would be sending them some money to help them get settled into their new place and again reminded Lovino to smile.

"No!" Lovino shouted again, reaching out. "You can't take him with you! _Mamma _promised! She promised!"

Antonio stopped him, wrapping his arms around him. "Shh, it's okay, Lovi!" But even he knew it wasn't. Slowly but surely, as Aria walked away with Feliciano, Antonio felt his world come crashing down around him. "It's okay, it's okay," the Spaniard repeated, more to himself now than Lovino. "It's okay."

More people rose from their seats, awkwardly skirting away from them on their way out. No one made any move to console them- not that they would have noticed anyway.

The courtroom was empty, Lovino asleep from exhaustion, when his sniffling finally came to an end. Antonio quieted carried him out to his car.

It was a silent drive away from everything Antonio had ever known.

((((()))))

With a quiet gasp, Lovino woke up. He rubbed his eyes and looked out the window at the fleeting scenery passing by. The happy, bustling town he was used to had turned into hilly pasture land, mountains off in the distance. It looked like the place they had went to for the school reunion. Maybe they were going to find a house there? Lovino vaguely remembered Antonio calling Francis, asking if he knew where he could find a cheap place to stay for a while.

"Did you finally wake up?" Antonio asked, looking back at him in the rearview mirror.

Lovino stubbornly frowned and drew his knees to his chest. "Leave me alone, you jerk," he muttered. With a tired sigh, he rested his head against the car door. He watched as the pastures slowly turned into roads and then a Wal-Mart on the outskirts of town. This was definitely where his father's old school was. "How long was I asleep?"

"A few hours," Antonio said. "I didn't want to wake you up for lunch so we'll eat when we meet up with Francis, alright?"

He nodded, settling back into silence. Lovino really didn't want to see Francis; or anyone, for that matter. He wanted to go back to sleep and wake up in his old bed by Feliciano's crying. That way he'd know that they were still together.

But this wasn't the dream. This was the reality.

Feliciano was gone forever. Lovino wouldn't see his brother again- it didn't matter what Roma had told him. He knew the judge was right.

It made him wonder if he had been right, choosing Antonio over Aria. He had lost his home, his brother, and half of his family. _I should have kept quiet. I should have just let them argue, and when they were done and they realized they were acting stupid, we could have gone back home._

The silence was broken by Anotnio's phone ringing. Lovino perked up, hoping that it would be Aria to apologize and ask them to turn around and come back. But when Antonio answered with a peppy, "Oh! Yes, this is Antonio Fernandez-Carriedo!" Lovino's hopes came crashing down. With a tired huff, he turned back to the window. "I called earlier, but I guess you were off to lunch. Mm hmm. It's just me and my son, so if we could possibly get one with two beds? No, no, we don't need a kitchen that elaborate. I'm not much of a cook. Lovino? He's four. Yep, this time next year, he'll be in school!"

Suddenly, something caught his eye. A large white sign had the picture of a giant tomato painted on the front of it. "Hey, _Papá_, look!"

"_Papá_!" he called again.

Lovino narrowed his eyes and bellowed, "_PAPÁ_!"

Antonio slammed on the brakes, coming to a screeching stop. "What is it? What's wrong?" he burst, turning back worried. Lovino pointed to the sign. "Lovino, yes, it's a tomato. Now please…. Wait a minute." He cocked his head, reading the sign with interest now. "Max's Tomato Farms. Now… HIRING! Lovino! Do you what that means?"

"Free tomatoes?" he asked hopefully.

"Even better!" Antonio happily burst. "Forget being a mechanic; we're going back to being farmers!" He swerved back to the turn off, going _way _too fast than was probably safe. He skidded to a stop upon arriving at the tomato fields. Antonio skipped around back to let Lovino out, grinning like he had just won the lottery. "_Vamos_, Lovi~!"

Antonio practically fainted on the spot when he saw an old sign, paint fading, that said "WELCOME!" between two round tomatoes. "This is amazing, Lovi!" he gushed again, picking the four-year-old up and smushing him tight. "_Muchas Gracias, mi Lovi! Te amo MUCHO_!"

"Ugh, enough already, jerk! Put me down!" Lovino angrily shouted, squirming to get out of Antonio's massive hug.

Antonio laughed and spun him around for good measure first before finally setting the dizzy four-year-old back on the ground. "Ugh, I feel like I'm to puke…."

"Cheer up, Lovi!" Antonio chirped, merrily bouncing through the gate in search of "Max".

Under a wide shed were three girls, all tending to young tomato plants they had just planted in the plastic pots one saw at the garden section of Wal-Mart. At least they knew this was the right place. "Hellooooo!" Antonio called out, still rocking on his heels in excitement.

The girls perked up in an instant, their eyes straying down to Lovino. "SO CUTE!" They simultaneously squealed, the eleven girls, ranging in ages from seven to seventeen; running up to pinch Lovino's cheeks. "What's your name, cutie?" the oldest cooed, patting his hair down. "You have the most adorable bed hair!"

"Ooh! Look at his sweet little frown- cheer up!" the next one burst, pulling at his cheeks in an attempt to allieviate the solid frown on Lovino's face.

"SO CUUUUUTE!"

"Girls! What're you doing?"

All eleven stood up to attention. The oldest cracked at a smile at the old man coming into view. "Hi, Grandpa! Lunchtime, yet?"

Their grandfather absently nodded, waving them off for their break. He stuck out his hand. "I'm Max, owner of the farm. Who might you be?"

"I'm Antonio Fernandez-Carriedo. Uh, the sign back there said you were hiring?"

His dark eyes lit up. Max's grin grew wider. "Yes, we are! With all my slackers of grandchildren and such a big farm, it's gettin' mighty hard to keep things running smoothly," he started enthusiastically. "It's about the time when he harvest and sell to the markets, so the work isn't so bad, but once spring hits planting season hits and it's really gonna take it out of you- but you look like a farm boy. Antonio, you said you were?"

"Yes, sir," he replied with a blinding smile of his own. "My family and I used to have our own farm back home in Spain. We left for the states when I was fifteen. This here is my boy, Lovino."

At being prompted to speak, Lovino pursed his lips stubbornly. "Hi," he muttered, keeping his amber gaze on the verdant summer grass.

Max chuckled, patting his head. "Hello to you too, Lovino. You both can call me Al-Arabe or Grandpa, alright? How soon can you start working, Antonio? Oh! The pay! Right, well, during harvest it's seven an hour. Planting season is ten an hour and summer is seventeen. Hard work."

"I can do it, don't worry! But can I ask a favor?" Antonio started. "Do you think Lovi could hang out around here while I'm out in the fields?"

Max's smile grew a little sad, instantly interpreting that as meaning they were in this alone together. "Of course. If you haven't had lunch yet, you can eat with us, if you like. The boys should be finishing up soon and my daughter's fixing tomato sandwiches."

"Tomato sandwiches?" Lovino asked, finally looking up.

Max and Antonio simultaneously grinned.

((((()))))

Francis was tired; and that in itself was a major understatement. When was the last time he had slept, anyway? Sometime yesterday- a quick nap between working night shift at Wal-Mart (which was when the _real _crazies came to visit) and running around on his already sore feet all day at the expensive bistro in the next town over; the ride to which took nearly an hour when traffic was bad.

Any spare time he had was spent cooking a hasty breakfast that he rarely got eat with everyone else. He ate on his way to the bistro, where being a waiter to stingy rich people quickly got tiring.

However, today was his day off. He still had to leave for the atrocity that was Wal-Mart at ten, but that was better than the bistro.

"Francis!" Alfred burst when he shuffled in the door. "Guess what, guess what!"

"Hmm?" he absently asked, struggling to keep conscious. Francis honestly felt like he could pass out on the floor and sleep right that second.

"Daddy helped us bake cookies! You gotta try one, Francis!" Alfred zoomed over to the kitchen where Matthew was standing guard over their morning's hard work. "They're chocolate chip," he explained, reaching as far as he could, trying to grab him a plate.

Francis easily got one himself. "They look…." _Certainly not edible, if Arthur had any part in their making, but…._ "…nice," he said at last, gingerly taking a bite.

He was certainly right about Arthur having done most of the work. Francis forced a smile on his face and choked out, "V-very good, you two."

When Alfred and Matthew, clutching Kumojiro close, turned to get their own cookies, Francis spat out the awful brick in the trash. "Antonio hasn't come yet, has he?" the Frenchman asked with a yawn. If Antonio and Lovino didn't get there soon, Francis was going to sleep, and that was that. "Uh, how about we eat the cookies after lunch? I got a pizza. Where's Arthur, off embroidering the pillows or something?"

"I was doing laundry!" said Englishman indignantly huffed. "There was a mountain growing in there."

Francis rolled his eyes. "Cooking, doing laundry… sounds to me like someone is turning into a little housewi… housemaid." The blonde silently put the pizza in the stove, shrugging off the sad looks Arthur tossed his way. Francis didn't need pity from the likes of him. He was alright so long as he didn't think about Jeanne…. The nightmares weren't as bad anymore, and Matthew was finally starting to speak out again, albeit quietly. Francis was more troubled with Matthew more than anything. He was so silent, _all the time_- almost to the point that one would forget the three-year-old was present. Matthew clung to his bear, holding it close to him like it was the only thing keeping him from breaking down.

It just wasn't right, Francis knew, but it wasn't like he had any time to do something about it. The sooner Arthur recovered and Francis got back on his feet, the better.

"FOR THE LAST TIME, YOU DUMMY, SHUT UP ABOUT THE STUPID FARM! MY EARS ARE _BLEEDING_!"

"Looks like Antonio's finally here," Arthur said unnecessarily, opening the door right as the Spaniard posed to knock. Stunning them all, Antonio was smiling. Lovino, of course, glared at his shoes, obviously fed up with his father's excessive cheerfulness. "U-um, are you okay, Antonio?"

"You won't believe this," he started, his smile growing even wider, "but I've got a farm to work on again!"

Lovino dropped his forehead on the doorframe. "We _get _it, you jerk face, now _shut up_."

"Lovi, cheer up~! You have Max's grandkids to play with now!"

The four-year-old scowled up at him. "I don't care about them! I want to play with… with…. Darn it! I wanna hurry and go home, you dummy!" Lovino burst, crying into Antonio's arm.

Matthew frowned, tears filling up in his bright eyes. He shied up against the wall and clutched Kumojiro tight. "Why are bad things happening to us?" he quietly wondered. No one heard him, now concerned with comforting Lovino. Alfred solemnly handed the fellow four-year-old a cookie in an attempt to cheer him up. Lovino took it quietly but refused to meet anyone's eyes. He kept an iron grip on Antonio's wrist- there was no way he was going to leave him like Aria and Feliciano had.

Lovino couldn't take any more loss. He didn't care about who he'd play with or where he would sleep. He just didn't want to be alone.

The cookie tasted bad, but Lovino didn't have the strength to care. He quietly repeated that he was tired, looking up to see Matthew give him an encouraging smile and Alfred with a wide grin on his face. Terrible things had happened to them, too, and yet they smiled.

Maybe… maybe Roma was right. Somehow, someday, maybe Lovino would get to see Feliciano again.

But until that day, he was content with being with Antonio and the others.

**Translations:**

**Italian-**

_**Prometto- I promise**_

**Spanish-**

_**Vamos- Let's go**_

_**Muchas Gracias, mi Lovi! Te amo MUCHO- Thank you so much, my Lovi! I love you so much!**_


	8. Chapter 8

**Geez, took us long enough, but we're finally where the characters are all grown up! For everyone's sake, yes, the characters have been fine and dandy for the past ten years. No more terrible tragedies. But, as you all know, the story continues….**

***Yong Soo has replaced Baby Kiku in terms of cuteness***

**Chapter 8-**

**Ten Years Later**

"Papa, wake up, it's six o'clock!"

"Mmm, Matthew, five more minutes," Francis mumbled, flipping over on his stomach to block out the obnoxious light pouring in. He was honestly starting to regret even leaving a light bulb in his room's stupid light. Mattie would only get mad and replace it himself, of course, but that would earn Francis _at least _a few more minutes of beauty sleep. Not that he particularly _needed _the beauty sleep or anything. He had to write himself a sticky note to remind him to throw out the light bulb….

Matthew frowned, tapping his foot on the spotless beige carpet. "Papa, it's the first day of the school year. We can't be late! Besides, you promised you'd take Alfred, Lovino, and I this morning."

"Eh, I'll get you there on time." Although after a minute of thought, the Frenchman sluggishly acquiesced, "No, I probably won't. Ugh, I _hate _mornings. Are you sure it's-"

"Yes," the blonde responded impatiently. "I'm sure it's the eighteenth, Papa. I already fixed some pancakes for you. I've already ate and gone over to Alfred's to make sure he was up. It took Arthur and me a good half-hour to push him out of bed."

Francis yawned in response, the promise of food always slightly more tempting than sleep. But the promise of _Mattie's _food…. Francis would be an idiot to turn it down. The boy had the cooking talent of his father, that's for sure. The wonderful smell of pancakes drenched in maple syrup hit him full force the second Francis walked into the living room. Before he even looked at the pancakes, however, he listlessly stumbled to the coffee maker, where Matthew had also already made a pot.

"Bless you, boy," Francis awed, sighing in delight at the taste of caffeine and French vanilla cream in the morning. He woke up a little more after that, finally noticing Matthew's attire. He narrowed his eyes at the green hoodie and jeans Matthew wore. "Why are you wearing that ratty thing? It's your first day of _high school_."

Matthew shrugged. "Half of my classes are in the air conditioned rooms. They're rumored to be winter in there, you know."

Francis blinked. "They finally put air conditioning in? When did this happen?"

"Um, six years ago?"

"Huh. I hadn't even noticed. Why don't they ever do something nice like that to _my _room? Honestly, it's like an _oven _in there until November hits. Remind me to start a petition against the principal," he growled.

"If it didn't work last year, I doubt it will this year, Papa."

"Don't ruin the moment."

Eight years ago Francis had gotten a job at the high school as the French teacher. He was a shoo in, actually being French himself, and Herakles Karpusi, the World History teacher as well as one of Francis's friends from high school, backed him up. To say the least, being a teacher was much better than slaving away at Wal-Mart and the old bistro in town; now out of business. Francis had treated everyone on their floor to _pot au feu _to celebrate the bistro's closing.

Matthew chuckled, shouldering his book bag. "I'm going to help Antonio with Lovino, okay?"

Francis popped his head through the bathroom door. "Be careful," he warned seriously. "You may want to enlist Lars as a body shield."

He was probably right, but Matthew figured Antonio would take the majority of the Italian's wrath. Lovino wouldn't even notice him until he mentioned breakfast anyway. The Italian had grown incredibly lazy over the years, neglecting to do his homework and chores and complaining about every little thing that happened to him. But Matthew, as well as everyone else, knew he worked just as hard as Antonio at Max's farm. He'd been getting paid (Max said that what the labor unions didn't know wouldn't hurt them) since he was seven for helping out. Lovino had the best tan out of anyone Matthew knew- even better than Alfred, who practically spent everyday outside playing football with Alice.

But then again, Alfred had a terrible addiction to Black Ops that kept him cooped up in his room for days at a time. It was even worse when Alfred made Matthew play it with him…. Matthew hated those stupid war games. He'd rather read or do something productive like, say, hiking or _not rotting your life away in front of a TV with an Xbox controller in your hand._ Sometimes Alfred just got on his nerves to no end.

Like how everyone liked to confuse Matthew for Alfred. Matthew didn't really get how someone could confuse the two of them, but it had been a common occurrence ever since kindergarten. And on the off chance Matthew didn't get confused for Alfred, everyone assumed they were twins. It took two whole recesses in third grade for Matthew to explain they were only best friends who lived next door to each other, and were always together, and… eventually Matthew just gave up and started agreeing with everyone that they were brothers. It was so much easier.

"_Buenos dias, _Lovi! _Sabes qué hoy es? Es tu primero_-"

"SHUT UP. GET OUT OF MY FACE, YOU STUPID JERK! And turn off that freaking light! Wipe that stupid grin off your face! It's too freaking early to be so happy!"

Matthew sighed. Lovino was as cheerful as ever. He let himself into the apartment, gingerly peeking in Lovino's room to see him glaring daggers at Antonio faithfully come to wake him up. "Aw, Lovi, don't be so sour!" the Spaniard pleaded.

Suddenly, Lovino's angered expression turned into one of wonder. "Is that Mattie's pancakes I smell?"

Antonio blinked. "Yeah… it is."

"Um, morning, guys," Matthew waved. Father and son finally noticed him.

"_Buenos dias_, Matthew!" Antonio chirped, turning away from Lovino. Seeing his chance, the fourteen-year-old grumbled out another choice few words in Spanish and pulled the covers back over his face. "You brought pancakes? _Gracias_!"

Matthew smiled, handing him a plate with two stacks on it. "And here's Lovino's. It's probably going to be a while before Papa's ready. You know how he is in the morning."

"Slower than those freaking nasty _escargot _things," Lovino felt fit to call, his voice muffled under his pillow and blanket. "Creepy Frenchie, eating snails and frogs…."

"Slower 'an _you_," Antonio said with his mouth full of pancake. "Hurry and 'et up. 'Ese are 'elicious!"

An amber eye peeked up over the dark blanket hopefully. "Did you put half a tomato with mine?"

Like Alfred and his Black Ops, Lovino had a fetish for tomatoes that seemed to progress towards an addiction with every passing day. He ate tomatoes with _everything_.

Once again, Matthew wondered why it had to be _him _to be stuck with Alfred and Lovino as neighbors. Francis and Matthew had had plenty of opportunities to leave the apartment, but Francis was too lazy and content with the way things were to move elsewhere. Matthew supposed the same for Arthur and Antonio. It wasn't like he hated living in the apartment or anything- he just thought it strange that none of them had moved in the ten years that had followed that awful August.

"NO WAY! I REFUSE TO EAT THIS CRAP OVER MATTIE'S PANCAKES!"

"At least Alfred is awake," Matthew sighed, spinning on his heel to revisit the Kirkland residence. "I'll bring Papa at seven, alright?"

Alfred football-tackled Matthew the second he knocked on the door, knocking the breath out of him. "MATTIE, DUDE, YOU HAVE TO LET ME EAT SOME PANCAKES! DAD'S GRAVY IS _ALIVE _AND _CRAWLING OFF MY PLATE._"

"For the last time, Alfred, my cooking is _not _radioactive!" Arthur hotly burst, pulling Alfred away before he crushed Matthew. "Now shut up before you wake the neighbors!"

"You're the one yelling at me!"

"Alfred Finnian Kirkland-"

Matthew sighed, toning out the brewing argument. Alfred and Arthur got into petty arguments every three seconds, it seemed. As usual, Matthew broke them up. "Please, you two, stop arguing. Arthur, if you want, I'll finish Alfred's plate. Alfred, I've got a batch on our dining table for you, okay?"

Arthur huffily allowed them both to go free, sparing Matthew from eating what the Englishman dared call cuisine. "Goodbye, Arthur," Matthew quietly called in Alfred's place, the latter currently being a baby and not talking to his father. When they were back out in the hall, Matthew scowled at his friend. "Really? You get into an argument over _gravy_?"

"No," Alfred shot back sulkily, "we got into a _disagreement_ over Dad's obnoxious yelling."

"I AM NOT WEARING THE FREAKING SHIRT MAY AND NORIA GOT ME FOR CHRISTMAS! IT'S FREAKING _PINK_!"

Alfred smirked. "Now _that _is an argument."

When Lars Johannes burst into the hall, glaring at the Fernandez-Carriedo apartment, Alfred quickly corrected himself: "It's going to be a massacre."

The scowling blonde narrowed his eyes at the two. "Tell them to shut up before I call the police," he growled, already turning back to the sanctuary of his own home. Lars slammed the door on them. Matthew and Alfred let out a simultaneous exhale of relief. If they likely hadn't been there, Lars probably would have stabbed Antonio to death. Lars had hated Antonio from the very first day the Spaniard had moved in, claiming that he was a pedo for calling Alice cute. It also didn't help that Lovino practically fainted on the spot when he saw Alice- although he would vehemently deny any comment made (always from Alfred) about him liking her. Alice thought he was cute, the way he turned bright red around her, and left it at that.

It was usually around that time that Alfred would ever so helpfully pop up and starting singing about the two sitting in a tree kissing. He would promptly get a mouthful of obscenities in both English and Spanish.

Alfred dashed for the pancakes, savoring every bite. Matthew handed him the maple syrup, rolling his eyes when he didn't smother his pancakes with it. Pancakes weren't any good unless drenched in delicious maple syrup.

After Alfred finished breakfast (in a record-breaking eleven seconds), he immediately plopped himself down on Matthew's couch, reached for Matthew's TV remote, and commenced watching VH1 on Matthew's TV. "Ooh! I love this song!"

"It's annoying," Matthew muttered, knowing that "Hey There Delilah" would be stuck in his head all day. Alfred didn't hear him. Francis finally emerged from the bathroom, looking more like a male model than a French teacher. Matthew inwardly sighed, hoping that he wouldn't repeat the whole "Mr. Bonnefoy is a pervert!" fiasco from last year. Matthew could only wait to hear the reaction he'd get when people learned he was Francis Bonnefoy's son.

"Ah, Matthew! Still wearing… that awful hoodie. Anyway, how do I look? _Magnifique, non_?"

"You look fine, Papa. Are you ready now? It's almost seven."

Francis smiled, which meant he was going to slouch around until they were almost late. Then, his eyes narrowed on Alfred, sprawled out on their couch. "Can't you watch those tone-deaf women on your own couch?"

Alfred turned around and chugged down the rest of his coke- "Hey, that was mine!" Matthew quietly fumed. His outburst went unnoticed by Francis and Alfred.

"Dad's off in one of his old man yelling sprees and Mattie had pancakes for me, 'cause he's awesome like that," Alfred explained, turning back to catch the beginning of a Maroon 5 song. "And for the record, Rihanna is awesome."

"None of the artists today will ever compare to Journey and Boston," Francis swore under his breath, grabbing his coat. "Lovino hasn't decapitated Antonio, has he?"

Matthew shook his head. "He seemed to be in a pretty good mood. Well, by Lovino's standards, anyway. Can we go now?"

"So eager to meet Ms. Braginski?" Francis smirked. "She's a tad old for you, but I must agree she's a lovely school councilor."

Matthew gaped, but Francis only laughed. "_Je ne peux pas croire mes Mattie peu diminué pour une femme plus âgée_."

"I-I did _not_!"

"Very lovely indeed," Francis reminisced, wryly grinning. "Ohonhonhon~!"

"And for the love of all that is good in this world, Papa, don't grope her!"

((((()))))

"Oh, great, I got Karpusi for homeroom."

"Really? I got him for history this year. I hear he falls asleep in his own class."

"And he's obsessed with cats!"

Kiku Honda looked down at his own schedule. He too had Herakles Karpusi for World History, a man his father knew well. Herakles liked to eat at their restaurant at least twice a week, Kiku recalled. He had a talent for remembering faces. Alfred Kirkland suddenly burst into laughter over something, his crowing louder than anyone in the auditorium. He also liked to visit Red Flower on the week ends with his father. Sometimes Matthew and Francis Bonnefoy would come with the two. He didn't recognize the auburn-haired boy standing with Alfred and Matthew as one of his customers, but _everyone _knew Lovino Fernandez-Carriedo regardless. The Spanish Italian had a terrible reputation for being cruel and someone who yelled at anyone who got within a ten-foot radius of him. Kiku decided it was best to avoid him, rumors or not.

An echoing stutter got the freshmen's attention, quieting them down. Ms. Katyusha Braginski nervously smiled out at the new class, her eyes lighting up when she caught sight of her brother sitting in the back with Eduard von Brock and Toris Lorinaitis, both extremely uncomfortable being around the smiling Russian. She cleared her throat and began her yearly speech about how high school was the best four years of anyone's life and all that. Kiku was pretty much the only student who actually listened to what she had to say, even if he had already gotten it from his father _three times_.

"_Wow_ does she have huge knockers."

Kiku cried out in surprise. His little brother, Yong Soo, who _should _have been at the middle school; smiled at him, sitting down in the empty seat beside him. "You know, I totally own this whole skipping school thing."

"What are you doing here?" Kiku demanded in a whisper, eyes darting around in worry that someone had already noticed the eleven-year-old among their ranks. "Where's Tao? He didn't come with you, did he?"

"I think he said he was going to get a burger with Xiao Mei down at King Kone," Yong Soo murmured. Seeing Kiku's eyes about to pop out of his head, he laughed. "I'm kidding! Tao's too chicken of father to ever do something as fun as this! But back to that lady- boy, do I wish I could get to know her!"

"No!" Kiku snapped in horror. "You need to go back to your own school! How did you even sneak out, anyway? Go back, Yong Soo!"

The sixth grader stuck his tongue out. "You're such a killjoy, Kiku. Geez, no wonder you don't have any friends."

Suddenly, the back door of the auditorium burst open, startling everyone. "YONG SOO WANG, REPORT BACK TO THE MIDDLE SCHOOL THIS INSTANT!"

Kiku palmed himself when Yong Soo stood up, grinning, alerting everyone's attention to him. "Catch you later, bro!" he said cheerfully, skipping down to meet his principal and sister, who obviously had been the one to alert them Yong Soo was missing. Tao stood by as well, looking as bored as ever.

Yes, this was definitely going to be a wonderful year indeed.

((((()))))

"…So… you all are… the new freshman class?"

Ludwig Beilschmit already felt exhausted, and it was only first period. He blamed that on Alfred, who had homeroom with him. Alfred nearly laughed his ear off, glad that someone on his football team was with him. Then, out in the hall, he had come face to face with Lovino. For a reason Ludwig couldn't fathom, Lovino hated him with a burning passion. He swore it was because of baseball or something in elementary, but Ludwig didn't even remember. All in all, Ludwig was ready for the weekend.

Mr. Karpusi, a large, languid man with curly dark brown hair, yawned, setting off a chain reaction for his students. "Well… this is World History, and- wait a minute… are you Kiku Wang?"

Ludwig turned to boy seated behind him, who nodded. "Although I go by my mother's maiden name, as she does. But yes, sir."

"Your dad said you liked history," he remembered. "At least… one of my students will… this year." Another yawn, and another chain reaction. Herakles looked over the rest of his role, perking up upon finding more of his old friends' children in his class. "Huh. Gilbert's boy and… Lars' sister is in here."

"You know my brother?" Alice perked up from the back of the room. She was the only sophomore in the room, having taken Geography last year. She didn't mind it much, though, hoping that Lovino would have been in her class. But even though he wasn't, Alice at least had Yong Soo's brother. News of the sixth grader had already spread throughout the school. If Kiku was anything like his hilarious little brother, Alice could tell this year was going to be a lot of fun.

Herakles nodded. "We went to college together. He majored in the field for telecommunications."

Alice nodded. "He has his own business that deals with international trading and the government. It's pretty cool."

"So how is Gilbert, Ludwig?"

Attention now turned on the blonde. "He is well." _Even though he almost crashed the car into the garage door yesterday because he was too busy singing along with ACDC to realize the door was still down. And the week before that he nearly tripped over poor old Astro because he was so eager to eat dinner. And the week before _that_..._

Herakles smirked, almost as if reading his mind. "It's good to know… everyone is doing well. As for you all… work starts tomorrow. I'll hand out your books… and you can spend the rest of class… talking. Oh, and by the way? The rumors you heard… about me being a bad teacher… I told last year's class to say that. It's fun… seeing you anticipate I'll be mean."

Alice, who knew full well Mr. Karpusi wasn't the miserable sleepy man kids made him out to be, smirked when everyone tossed their neighbors confused looks. She loved clueless little freshman.

((((()))))

Matthew's day had gone by surprisingly fast. He had run into Alfred several times, each time getting an ear-full about the brunette's day. Matthew smiled and took it, glad to hear things were good so far. He, on the other hand, had gotten lost at least twice in the twisting school. Heta High was only two floors, but the second floor was in the shape of an oblong "L" while the first floor was basically a rectangle. He quickly found a route to his classes that he mostly knew, but the second he strayed off course again, he'd be lost.

He skirted upstairs to his father's room, the last class of his day. Matthew had only taken the class as an easy A- of course he already knew French. He only hoped that Francis wouldn't be insanely hard or doting on him to give him a challenge. At the end of the day, Matthew was ready to crawl into bed and sleep; not do piles and piles of French homework to keep him occupied.

Actually, now that he thought about it, he probably _wouldn't _be able to go home and sleep after school. Alfred would come begging and crying for math and science help, dragging along Lovino with his own grammar problems. It had been that way since Kindergarten, it seemed like.

"Hey, you're Bonnefoy's kid, aren't you?"

_Great_, Matthew inwardly muttered, coming to a halt. He turned to see two boys, obviously older than him, come sauntering in his direction. "Off to see Daddy for a good grade? I figure he'll give you one like he does with all the pretty girls."

His friend cackled. "If there was ever a guy-slut, it's Bonnefoy."

Matthew's eyes widened. "D-don't say that about my-"

"Shut up, kid. You were probably some whore's kid anyway. Is your mom a whore too?"

"I bet she is! Where's your mommy, kid? Sleeping with some drunk rich guy?" he laughed, already turning to walk away. His friend knocked Matthew's books down just for good measure before following after him.

Matthew dropped down to gather his books. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw the boys suddenly stop. "Detention for you both!"

Hands on her hips and lips pursed in displeasure, Katyusha Braginski narrowed her eyes at the two. "That is no way to treat a fellow classmate!" she trilled in her accented voice, pushing past them to help Matthew to his feet. "Are you okay?"

"I-I'm fine, thank you," Matthew quietly said. "Um, I'm going to be late for class…."

Katyusha blinked. "Oh, y-yes. Well, um, if you need anything, my office is right down the hall, okay?" The Russian turned back to the two boys, narrowing her eyes once more. "Come on, you two. To the principal."

Matthew quickly went on his way, lips trembling. He didn't care if Alfred and Lovino had homework; the second Matthew got home, he was going to sleep until the next day of school. Well, he might wake up to fix himself some tasty, maple-y pancakes, but he couldn't face his father out of fear he'd tell him. It was almost ten years to the day that Jeanne had died. Matthew barely remembered her- but he knew that Francis remembered her well. Francis needed to be as happy as possible during the end of August.

He had barely made it to class on time before the tardy bell rang. Matthew took a seat far in the back of the room, away from the students he'd grown up but still didn't know well enough to call a friend.

Francis smiled at him before cheerfully giving everyone a happy, "_Bienvenue à la classe, tout le monde!_"

((((()))))

If there was one thing Lovino hated, it was being pushed along by a bustling crowd of kids taller and older than him. Someone with huge broad shoulders shoved past him, knocking into a locker. "HEY!" he burst indignantly, but they simply kept walking. "Stupid-"

"Oh!"

Lovino looked down. A girl with blonde hair scrambled to pick up her fallen books. She was crazy thin with pale braids over her shoulders wearing a dainty green dress. "It'll help if you don't stuff them all in like that," Lovino started, setting her math book upright. The girl, stunned, scooted back to give him room to reach in and set things right.

"Um… thank you," she said quietly. "I'm Lili."

"Lovino. That's a pretty big binder, do you want me to carry it for you?"

Lili's green eyes went wide. "Y-you want to carry my things?"

A blush spread across Lovino's cheeks. "I-it's because you're too small!" he declared, taking it anyway. "Geez, don't you ever eat? You look like you weigh fifty pounds! Where are you going?"

She offered a small smile at his outburst. "I'm going to Mr. Simmons' room. Um, I think it's at the end of the hall," Lili explained, skipping after the brunette.

"Huh. That's my next class, too. I guess we're stuck together."

"HI LOVINO!" Alfred burst from somewhere on the other side of the crowded hall.

"Yeah, yeah," he called back blandly. Lili covered her mouth to hide her giggle.

"You know, you're a lot nicer than what everyone else says," Lili started. "You're kind of funny, too."

Lovino snorted. "Freaking hilarious, I know. Anyway, here's our class. Go home and eat some food, alright?"

"I will. Thank you, Lovino."

**Translations:**

**Spanish**

_**Buenos dias- Good morning**_

_**Sabes qué hoy es?- Do you know what today is?**_

_**Es tu primero- It's your first-**_

_**Gracias- thanks**_

**French-**

_**Magnifique, non?**_**- **_**Gorgeous, no?**_

_**Je ne peux pas croire mes Mattie peu diminué pour une femme plus âgée- I cannot believe my little Mattie fell for an older woman.**_

_**Bienvenue à la classe, tout le monde!- Welcome to class, everyone!**_


	9. Chapter 9

**When Alfred mentions Aooni, he totally means Hetaoni. XD**

**This chapter is set in November. Sorry for the sudden jump, but all the juicy stuff happens in November. Not sure why, but I feel as though I should include a maniacal laugh with that…. :D**

**Also, the part (you all will know which one) in here is one I had written around the beginning of this story. I had wanted it to happen a bit later, but I guess that since this is CHAPTER 9 (dear Lord, how have we gotten that far so soon? O.O), I put it in. Although the very last part was a split second decision on Friday night. Hope everyone likes it? 'Cause that arc is going to be **_**so freaking epic **_**you have no idea.**

**Chapter 9-**

"Dude, I swear I had no idea where the library even was until you dragged me here."

"Figures. Go find an empty table. I'll get the books we need for that English report."

Alfred scanned the ghostly empty library (it was so early that hardly anyone had arrived at the school yet). The towers of books and narrow shelves made him feel like there were monsters lurking behind every twist and turn- maybe he should have listened to Matthew and not watched Aooni at midnight….

"Creepy libraries," he muttered, suppressing a shudder.

But, as he discovered upon further investigation, Alfred and Matthew weren't alone in the library. Alfred inwardly whooped in joy, rushing over to the quiet Asian boy contently working on his history homework. "Hiya!" Alfred happily burst, sticking out his hand. The boy blinked and flinched back in shock. "I'm Alfred! You kinda look familiar…. Hey, aren't you Kiku Honda, the son of that guy who owns Red Flower? I love that place! Me and my dad-"

"My dad and I."

Now it was Alfred's turn to blink in surprise. "Um… what?"

Kiku gestured at him. "'Me and my dad' is not grammatically correct. It is 'my dad and I'. You came in here to work on English. It's only right that you correct your grammar."

"O-oh, right," Alfred mumbled, stunned. He silently watched Kiku look back to his work, eyes scanning a chapter they hadn't even gone over yet. "Uh, we're on chapter four, dude."

"I'm working ahead," he said curtly, refusing to look up.

Alfred frowned, leaning forward to watch him write. He read the first paragraph- about the renaissance- and then looked at Kiku's paper. Alfred was amazed to see that he wasn't copying answers straight from the book. He gave honest answers like he had actually put some thought into them. _No one _spent that much time on history homework. The brunette bit his lip a minute in thought. Kiku seemed smart; what with his mad grammar skills and history kick. If Alfred could make a friend of him, maybe he could help him with his algebra homework….

"So, Kiku," Alfred began again, determined to start an actual conversation with the kid. "That was your little brother that snuck into the high school on the first day, wasn't it?"

He nodded.

Alfred waited for a bit of explanation. When he didn't get one, he asked, "What was his name? Chang-a-lang?"

Kiku finally looked up, his gaze still neutral, but Alfred could tell he was starting to lose his patience. "Are you mocking my family's name?"

"N-no!" he burst. "I thought that was a Chinese name or something-"

"I'm _Japanese_. So are my brothers and sister. We're only half Chinese, thank you. Now may I please finish my work, Alfred?"

He was about to start a round of shameless apology until he realized that Kiku somehow knew who he was. "Uh, how do you know my name?"

Kiku patiently explained, "You said it yourself earlier. You and your father visit my father's restaurant all the time. I have heard your name multiple times there. That is how you knew my name, wasn't it?"

"Well, yeah, but-"

"Alfred, I found some books on the Civil War for you. Please don't scribble down nonsense this ti- oh, geez, I'm sorry," Matthew apologized upon finding Kiku. "Alfred hasn't been bothering you, has he?"

Kiku offered a small, polite smile. "Not at all. He's good company."

"Wait a minute," Alfred started, his eyebrows shooting up. "What do you mean, I'm good company? You totally hate me!"

His lips slightly widened into a faint smirk. "I do not hate you, Alfred. You're good company because you've kept me from 'being a nerd', as my brother says. I thank you for that." Kiku gathered his books and politely bowed. "_Sayonara_."

Before he disappeared out into the hall, Alfred called out, "See you later, Kiku!"

When Alfred plopped back into his seat, grinning widely, Matthew shook his head with a wry grin. "I am amazed at your ability to annoy others, Alfred."

"Nuh uh! Kiku just said we're friends!"

"Of course. Now let's get started on your report, okay? You won't have time to work on it tonight because of the game…."

((((()))))

Football games, Matthew had learned over the years, slowly got more and more boring after all homework was completed. It was the same thing every game anyway: Alfred and Ludwig would practically massacre everyone on the opposing team, giving their other teammates the advantage they needed. Despite this reoccurrence, people still cheered madly every time Ludwig took out someone or when Alfred shoved the person with the ball into the dirt.

Francis had used grading papers as his excuse to escape the Friday night game and Antonio and Lovino (though it was actually more truth than excuse) were too tired to go after a long day at their farm. Apparently things were getting harder and harder with Max having fallen ill and his grandsons starting to move away. There was actually talk of handing over the farm to Antonio, whom Max claimed to be his seventh child, and Lovino, his eighteenth grandchild. Needless to say, Max had a huge family.

Matthew was alone after Arthur had left to pick up ice cream for the boys after their game (a tradition since first grade)- something he was used to. But he was growing more and more tired with every stupid touchdown. Surely Arthur wouldn't care if he went walking for a while….

There was a coffee shop just behind the school, across a narrow street, that had been around since the sixties. It was a cozy, warm place- especially on a chilly October night like this. Matthew hadn't brought any money with him, but he figured it would be alright to simply sit in the quiet for a while

The shop was empty- save one table, in the back corner, where Katyusha, Ivan, and a blond girl Matthew assumed to be their sister sat. Katyusha noticed him in an instant, a smile breaking out onto her face. "Hello!" she happily called, surprised to see the blonde walk in. Her smile seemed to tone down a little when she noticed he was alone, a hint of worry tainting her bright eyes.

"Oh, um, hello," Matthew quietly smiled back. He walked over, sitting down when Ivan pulled him out a chair. "I just came from the game. Alfred's big on the defense."

Katyusha nodded slowly, a blank look coming over her face. "The… game. Um, it's football tonight, right? The game with the brown long thing?"

Matthew blinked. "Um… yeah. Football."

She smiled brightly again at having correctly guessed the game, completely unfazed by his confusion- who didn't know what _football _was in _America?_- and said, "Oh! Let me introduce you to my family! This is Ivan, my baby brother. He's a freshman this year too. And this is my sweet little sister Natalya."

Natalya certainly wasn't what Matthew would have called "sweet". Natalya looked to be about eleven or twelve with long, pale-blonde hair adorned with a white bow. Her eyes were dark blue and lovely- but also narrowed, as if she was mentally stabbing Matthew for interrupting their afternoon.

Her brother was a completely different story. He looked completely chipper and jovial, but it was almost to the point of being _too _cheerful, like he was secretly an ax murderer on the weekends or something. "_Ochen preeyatna._"

"Nice to meet you too," Matthew correctly guessed. "I'm Matthew Bonnefoy."

"You're Francis's son? I hadn't noticed," Katyusha started in surprise. "Do you know French, too?"

"_Je connais un peu le français_," he humbly replied with a small smile. "Um, and thanks for what you did back on the first day of school. I never thanked you, did I?"

Katyusha narrowed her eyes in thought before lowly exclaiming, "Oh, _those _two. They haven't been teasing you anymore, have they? I'll have them suspended next time."

"O-oh no," he quickly said, "I'm fine. I just feel a little bad for up and leaving like that."

"You said yourself you were late; it's alright."

A quiet silence fell back over the coffee shop. The clock on the wall across from them read that it was already almost nine o'clock. Arthur would be back any second with the ice cream. "Um, thanks for letting me sit with you all, but I'd best hurry back to the game. It should be almost over by now."

"Wait, before you go, let me buy you some hot chocolate. It's cold out there, isn't it?" Before Matthew could decline, she had already marched over to the cashier.

"_Sestra_ is very nice, isn't she?" Ivan smiled.

Matthew nodded. "Yeah. I guess I'll see you Monday, Ivan."

Once Katyusha handed him his hot chocolate, she sent him on his way with a smile and a wave. Ivan grinned and Natalya's murderous glare softened just a fraction.

_Finally a family as weird as mine_, Matthew chuckled as he started his lonely walk back to the game.

((((()))))

Winter came quickly and with a fierce ferocity that very weekend- the first major storm had granted their small town two feet of snow. Matthew and Alfred had bolted outside the second they woke up, only with great difficulty dragging Lovino out. But amidst their snowball fight (which had nearly dented Matthew's bones within the first five minutes), the Italian stood on the street shivering violently. "I-I-I-I-it's too c-c-c-c-cold!" he chattered back when Alfred had asked him to join them. Lovino then shuffled back inside. He didn't leave the safe confines of his warm apartment for the rest of week.

Francis, after finally giving in to Alfred's pleas, had eventually joined them in their game. He had come prepared this year, wearing a white parka that better helped him blend into the snow and thus avoid more of Alfred's monstrous ice balls.

During all of this, Arthur had stayed inside to catch up on his cleaning.

"Ahh!" Arthur screamed, jumping back in terror. He could have sworn _something _had just moved behind Alfred's bed. Something… that looked suspiciously like the triple cheeseburger with bacon and barbecue sauce that Alfred had concocted in the kitchen earlier that week. Nervously looking around his feet, broom carefully poised in front of him for protection, Arthur slowly backed out of the room and slammed the door after him. Sure enough, back in his days with the Occult Club in high school, Arthur had seen plenty of different and horrifying things (the worst being the day they had caught Roderich after school making out with Elizabeta), but Arthur was sure he had never seen anything like a mutant burger… _thing_.

Arthur was going to have to give that boy a talk when he got back home from breaking Francis and Matthew's faces. As he turned around to inspect his earlier work in the living room, everything seemed in perfect order. The kitchen/dining room was mopped and drying, the smell of lemon Lysol drifting throughout the apartment. Everything (that he was willing to tackle) was perfectly clean, just in time for Christmas. As he sat down on the couch, pulling out a book he hadn't been able to rightfully read in nearly a month, Arthur figured that having Alfred out and about so often was actually turning out to be a good thing. He made a mental list to start sending Alfred out more often, as well as to stop letting Alfred mess around in the kitchen.

Arthur was just finishing chapter ten when someone knocked on the door. Apparently Francis and Matthew gave in quickly to Alfred's monster snowballs. Arthur didn't blame them a bit. "Coming!" he called, marking his place with a pen on the coffee table.

Alfred was not behind the door.

She was just as Arthur remembered her: piercing, bright blue eyes, now bloodshot and puffy; beautiful light brown hair, now chopped short; the same wonderful face perfect for cupping…. She wore a pair of holey jeans and a too-tight plaid shirt, looking more like a teenager than the thirty-eight-year-old she was. Arthur was almost concerned to see her without a jacket in cold weather like this, but concern was replaced by sheer shock.

"How did you figure out where I live?" Arthur whispered incredulously. So it wasn't the best thing to say to the woman he was once married to, but honestly, the fact was very disheartening.

Samantha hiccupped back a sob and threw her arms around him. The smell of stale beer wafted off of her, instantly bringing a frown to Arthur's face. "Why are you here?" he asked, shimmying out of her drunken grasp.

"Where is he, Arthur?" Samantha Jones sniffed.

Arthur blinked. "Who?"

"My son! Where is my son, you bloody dolt? Where is my Alfred?" Samantha slurred, stumbling back against the doorframe. She rubbed her bare arm against her tearing eyes. "I've come to get him, Arthur. Where is my Alfred?"

To be honest, Arthur couldn't speak. He couldn't yell at her to get out of his home, couldn't make up an excuse as to why Alfred wasn't present. Finally, after coughing nervously, Arthur said the next thing that popped up into his head. "Alfred is _my _son, you whore."

Samantha stared at him a moment, the insult taking a moment to register in her foggy mind. "Arthur Kirkland, I am his mother."

"That's true, but as I recall, you left me to raise him alone while he was barely four months old. I believe that you have no jurisdiction over him, nor any right to come to into my home demanding to see a child I doubt you even remember. If you want money, Samantha, I advise you to turn elsewhere. But," Arthur conceded, "if there _is_ a shred of remorse for your actions fourteen years ago, I must regretfully say that _no_, Alfred and I do _not _forgive you and your bloody selfish attitude. Now kindly get your soddy feet off my mopped floor before I call the police."

Samantha reacted faster to that. "No jurisdiction?" she hissed. "You don't think I have the right to speak to my son? I'll admit I was an idiot fourteen years ago, but that doesn't make me any less his mother! Where is he, Arthur?"

"Get out!" Arthur yelled.

Snarling, Samantha shoved him away from her. On the still wet kitchen floor, Arthur slipped, slamming down hard on the edge of the granite counter top. A sharp pain split up his back, knocking the breath out of him.

"You stupid man! I hate you, Arthur! I swear I'll meet Alfred! And when I do, I'm taking him with me!"

Sliding to the floor, Arthur winced and the kicked the door close right as Samantha stumbled out. When she didn't break the door down, Arthur stumbled to his feet and locked it behind her. He ignored her sobbing and stumbled back to the couch, trying his best to keep from crying out in pain. Alfred couldn't know. No, he had… stumbled when he was dusting off the curtains. Yes…. Just a clumsy accident. After all, Arthur was famous for those.

Eventually, he heard Samantha pick herself up and wobble away from the door, hopefully back to whence she came. He prayed that once she was sober she wouldn't remember their address. Why hadn't he looked through the peephole first? He could have pretended to not be home and maybe she would have just left.

But how in the _world _had she gotten his address? Arthur frowned, covering his face with his arm. The apartment was chilly, but, thanks to the sweater Francis said to had come from a sheep with a horrible wool disorder, Arthur was saved from the trouble of getting up and looking for a blanket. And there was absolutely nothing wrong with his sweater; his Mum in Britain gave it to him. Alfred had got a matching one, but surprisingly enough (read: he threw it out in the middle of the night), it was missing the morning after.

Samantha's mother was as ferocious as her daughter, never having met Alfred. Arthur doubted she even knew they had had a son. In fact, he seriously doubted she even knew they were _divorced_. Samantha never called her up for a chat, and her mother practically hated Arthur, so there was no way _he_ was going to offer a hello.

Arthur considered Alfred lucky for not having to meet Samantha's side of the family. Although Arthur tried to be sensible, he was about fed up with sugarcoating things, so he didn't feel a bit of remorse for calling everyone in the Jones' family bloody nut jobs.

Thinking more unpleasant, very un-gentlemanly names for Samantha and the rest of the Jones' clan back in Brooklyn, Arthur drifted to sleep, hoping that when he woke up his back wouldn't feel so bloody awful.

((((()))))

"Well, I think my nose is back in place after you broke it last year," Francis mumbled behind his glove. Matthew handed him another tissue while Alfred offered another round of apologies for getting too carried away. The blond father and son were sore and pitifully beaten- it was no doubt Alfred had won this round. And probably the rounds to come, but thankfully Francis had the excuse of injury to spare him another barrage of icy snowballs pounded into him.

"I swear I didn't mean to!" Alfred crowed, hanging over him, wringing his gloved hands. "I wasn't aiming for your face, I just accidentally threw it and it hit you- PLEASE DON'T TELL DAD."

Francis waved him off, standing up with a tissue stuffed up in his nose to catch the bleeding. Heaven forbid he get blood on his new white parka. "I won't, now calm down," he said in a nasally French accent that nearly sent Matthew and Alfred to the ground, laughing and rolling in the snow. But Alfred caught himself in time with a fake cough and Matthew bit down hard on his lip to keep from chuckling. "I think my ears are about to freeze off out here! Let's go back inside."

"Yes! Time for hot chocolate! We'll have to call up Tony, Mattie, he makes the _best _hot chocolate!" Alfred burst, all but having forgotten busting Francis's nose at the thought of warmth.

"Which one is Tony, again? The short one who always carries the laptop?"

"Yeah. He's convinced he was abducted by aliens. Arthur doesn't really like him," Matthew quietly confirmed, dusting snow off him before they reached the apartment. Unlike Alfred, who had probably already run up the stairs, tripped and fallen down said stairs, and continued the rest of the way back home; Matthew had the decency not to track melting snow through the apartment.

Francis cocked an eyebrow at Tony's description. "Aliens…? You're not friends with this kid, are you?"

Matthew sighed. "Sort of. But just by association with Alfred. I mean… Tony is nice and all, but…. He's not exactly someone I'd want to know where I live." _I'm almost afraid he'd try to dissect my brain._

"Make sure you don't let Alfred tell him we're his neighbors," Francis advised, changing out tissues. "I haven't smudged blood on me, have I?"

"You're fine, Papa."

While Francis had started complaining again about his nose, Matthew checked himself for any bruises he'd picked up from the game. Since poking himself didn't hurt like heck, he declared himself safe for once, considerably grateful that Francis had called off the game. Matthew would have been killed out there if he went one-on-one with Alfred.

"Dad!"

Matthew hurried the rest of the way upstairs. He burst into the Kirkland residence. "I-I'm fine, Alfred," Arthur muttered. "I slipped when I was… dusting the curtains."

"Are you sure you're alright?" he nervously asked. "Don't sit up! Mattie, will you fix him some tea? I'll go get you a blanket, Dad."

Matthew smiled at the transition between argumentative-Alfred to caring-Alfred. "Want kind do you want, Arthur?"

"I promise, Matthew, I'm alright. Go get warmed up," he said softly. But there was still something troubling him- Matthew could tell from the way he avoided looking him in the eye. Arthur had never been able to lie to Matthew. Alfred came back with a huge comforter. "Thank you, Alfred."

"Well… I'd better go help Papa with his nose," Matthew mumbled, leaving the awkward scene. "Bye, Alfred, Arthur."

"What did he mean by 'help Francis with his nose', Alfred?"

"Heh heh, w-well, um, it was _completely _on accident…."

((((()))))

**Several Miles Away**

"…Wh-what do you mean, Grandpa had another heart attack?"

"I mean that… that he probably won't last very much longer, Feliciano."

Feliciano Remus Vargas stood there stunned a moment, stricken into an unusual silence. His grandpa- his _nonno_ Roma- was… dying? The first tears sprang to his eyes. His breathing hitched into dry sobs, his tiny frame shaking. "H-h-he c-can't!" he burst, wilting to his skinny knees. Feliciano folded in on himself, grabbing the sleeves of his sweater and pulling his knees to his chest. His fingers dug into his skin through the thick fabric- the sweater had actually been a present from _Nonno _Roma just a week ago. It wasn't possible that he was _dying_.

But the doctors had told them. When Roma had the first heart attack, the doctors told them he wouldn't be able to survive another. He was too weak, his heart was too dead….

Yet when Feliciano had last seen him, stuck in the hospital wearing one of those absurd hospital gowns, Roma had smiled and promised him everything would be okay. He had promised, and Roma had _never _gone back on a promise to Feli! They had even pinky swore! I-if he was getting worse, if he was _dying_- didn't that mean Roma had lied to him?

It hurt- it hurt so _bad_; his chest, aching for oxygen as he cried and cried; his heart, which was obviously well shattered. Feliciano threw his arms around Aria, burying his face in her shoulder, his own shoulders heaving with sobs.

Aria stifled her own sobs, drawing the boy close. "Shh, it's okay, Feli!" she whispered, rocking him. Marco, her fiance, quietly left to leave them alone. Aria didn't take notice, combing her fingers through Feliciano's dark caramel hair- so much like _His_. But it didn't matter if he looked like Antonio; Feliciano hadn't deserted her. Feliciano loved her. As long as she had him, she wouldn't be alone…. She wouldn't be able to handle being alone. "It's okay, it's okay," she repeated over and over, her voice growing quieter as he calmed down, sleep taking over him. "It's okay."

No. She, and Feliciano, and Marco, and Roma all knew that it wasn't okay. Things hadn't been okay since that awful day ten years ago.

Aria picked up Feliciano, once again frowning at how insanely small he was for a ten-year-old. "We don't need _Him_, Feli," Aria bitterly said. Feliciano shifted slightly, but remained locked in his dreams. Hopefully they were better than their sorry reality. "We're fine on our own. Marco will be a better father than _Him _anyway."

Feliciano frowned, careful not to move and kept his breathing the same. She was wrong about that. Marco wasn't… Marco couldn't be anything like the real thing, wherever he was. Roma had told Feliciano all about Antonio and Lovino- _Grandpa Roma, you can't die. You can't, you can't, you can't…._

He silently squeezed his eyes shut, tears spilling through.

_You can't leave me like Lovino._

**Translations:**

**Japanese-**

_**Sayonara- Goodbye**_

**Russian (which I'm actually learning now!)-**

_**Ochen preeyatna- Pleasure to meet you**_

_**Sestra- sister**_

**French-**

_**Je connais un peu le français- I know a little French**_

**Italian-**

_**Nonno- Grandpa**_


	10. Chapter 10

**I'm updating a day early 'cause my internet is acting screwy again. Chapter eleven may also be up today, just as a little gift (I'm too impatient is the real reason why. XD)**

…**I'm terribly sorry, but as much as I try, I cannot make myself make Ivan a bad guy in this. Originally in this chapter, there was going to be a part which involved Matthew punching him in the face for bringing up Jeanne in a way he thought was Ivan trying to insult her, but it conflicts a later idea, so I dropped it. I might write the part out in an omake at the end of the fic or something, but no more bad-guy Ivan. Maybe.**

**Stupid head canon!**

**Also… you guys are going to hate me. But remember! It's not Alleluia without the angst!**

**Chapter 10-**

Thanksgiving had always been quite the harrowing experience. Francis and Arthur would argue about who would fix the turkey (Francis always won, after Lovino voiced his opinion on the matter, even if he thought Francis was a creeper after last year's Christmas incident). Antonio would fix churros and tacos- who was to say you only had to eat turkey, cranberries, stuffing, and apple pie on Thanksgiving?- and Matthew monitored Arthur's cooking to make sure he didn't accidentally poison it. Even so, only Alfred ate what his father fixed.

Alfred had a stomach of steel, that was for sure.

Lars and Alice had spent their Thanksgivings with them for years now, bringing over assorted pies and other desserts. The siblings were just as much family as anyone else, and it wouldn't be a holiday without Lars' silent threats and glares directed at Antonio and Alice's playful flirting with Lovino to keep him a lovely shade of red during dinner.

Once the food was prepared and Antonio had convinced Francis and Arthur to stop arguing for a moment, they crowded around Antonio and Lovino's dining table (they rotated between apartments each year).

"Alrighty, who's going to say the blessing so we can pig out?" Alfred anxiously burst.

Arthur scowled at him and elbowed his arm. "Be respectful when you talk about the blessing! Honestly…."

"How about I do it since we're with me this time?" Antonio offered. When there were no complaints voiced, he bowed his head. "Heavenly Father, we thank You for us to be able to spend this day and meal together again. We ask that You bless the meal prepared and those who prepared it for us. And most of all, we pray that you watch over our families wherever they are today, and pray that they have a meal as great as ours. We thank you Lord, in Jesus' name."

"Amen," everyone ended.

Alfred immediately grabbed for the turkey. "I call one of the legs!" he shouted, practically smacking Arthur's hand away.

"Don't reach across the table like that! Were you raised in a barn or something?"

"He was raised by a tasteless pig who burnt the rolls!"

"THAT IS IT, FRANCIS BONNEFOY!"

"NO ONE BURNS THE BAKED GOODS AND LIVES!"

And Thanksgiving was as peaceful as always.

((((()))))

The Thanksgiving week of snow had been far too long for Lovino. However, he wouldn't have minded if he had been trapped inside the apartment complex a little longer- so long as he was _inside_ and _in front of a heater_, huddled together in the corner of the living room with Antonio. Matthew and Alfred had spent as much time as possible outside for the rest of their Thanksgiving break, massacring each other with balls of snowy death from what little snow was left after the storm, while Francis went shopping (read: went to Wal-Mart to flirt with ladies) and Arthur cleaned some more. The Englishman had even come knocking on the Carriedo's door, offering his services as a cleaning maid because he was so bored being locked up inside.

On Sunday, Lovino's hopes of crouching next to the wonderful heater for another day plummeted with the announcement of school on two hour delay. There was still a foot of snow out there- who would _honestly _be stupid enough to ride to school in that?

"Lovino, it's not a foot," Matthew quietly sighed, turning up the heat in Francis's car. "I don't think there's even an inch out there now. All the roads are shoveled and it's not supposed to snow anymore until next week."

"Sh-sh-shut u-u-up," he stuttered in reply, shivering in the back seat with Alfred, texting everyone who attended Heta High that he would arrive soon, and not for them to fear.

And here Lovino thought Gilbert was conceited.

The heating system was a complete failure of life. Lovino was sure he would die of hypothermia before the car finally warmed up enough to keep him thawed- but before the temperature had even reached the positive digits again, they were already parking and shuffling outside.

"Put on your ear muffs!" a stern voice called from across the street, concern lacing through every word. "And pull your coat closer! You did bring your scarf, didn't you, Lili?"

"Yes, _Vati_," the small girl replied, hurrying through the street over to the school. "I'll see you and _Mutti_ later!"

"_Vati_" still frowned, unconvinced that she would be alright. However, he merely sighed and waved her off, turning back to his house. There was something about him, Alfred knew. Something that tugged at the very recesses of his mind, taking him back in time. That blonde man… something about Switzerland…? What was it….

Alfred hissed when a migraine erupted. "A-ah, are you okay, Alfred?" Matthew worriedly chirped, catching his wince.

The brunette shrugged away his worry with a flawless white smile. "I'm alright. Besides- KIKU!" Alfred suddenly yelled, his nonexistent ADD kicking in when the Asian came into his view. "Dude, Kiku, you totally gotta come with me and Mattie next time we snow-fight! You can be on Lovino's team!"

The Italian normally would have blown up at this, yelling at him to shut up; reminding him _again_ that he absolutely _hated_ the snow, the cold, and, most of all, snowball wars. However, he merely cast him a withering glare before turning to talk to Lili, bundled so thick in her mint green parka that it made her look about Alfred's size.

Matthew softly smiled as Alfred and Lovino went their separate ways- Alfred finally leaving Kiku alone to go hang with Ludwig (who always blocked out his teammate's bad jokes and general annoyingness by reading a book) and Lovino to sit with Lili and Alice. Matthew would probably escape to the library or spend the morning before first period with Francis, helping him grade papers and such. That was what he had been doing all year, and he wasn't about to change his routine now.

"Matthew!"

Except before, he didn't have Ivan Braginski to call him over to sit with him, Toris, and Eduard, both of whom had a bit of a forced friendship with the Russian. Matthew had found it funny, how Toris forced Eduard to put up with Ivan like he did. Toris was just friends with him to be nice. Everyone knew it.

The blonde offered them a nervous smile, setting down his backpack beside him on the gym bleachers. "Um, good morning."

None of them were big on making conversation, let alone small talk. Matthew contributed Eduard's silence to the awkwardness of sitting with Ivan, who was smiling overly-cheerfully again. His smile even made Matthew a little uneasy, but he merely picked at the frayed ends of his hoodie's sleeves instead of wondering why he was so happy. Matthew didn't pry in people's business like Alfred.

"So…," Toris weakly started, putting on a nervous smile, "you guys have fun over the weekend?"

((((()))))

The only good part of Lovino's day was lunch- even if it was the last lunch of the day and they never offered tomatoes unless they were serving sandwiches. He sat in the back of the cafeteria, up against the windows, shivering. But, almost as if it were some sacred law, no one left their chosen spot in the cafeteria. So the Italian quietly suffered in frozen agony.

Alfred showed up next, his boisterous laugh alerting everyone in the cafeteria that the hero had arrived. Matthew, whom Lovino didn't even notice at first, was trailing behind him as usual. They joined his miserable self- Alfred providing more conversation than Lovino and Matthew could bother with. Lili came last, daintily carrying over a lunch of different cheese delicacies. Lovino noticed with a start that she was paler than usual.

Before he could ask if she was alright, Alfred stole her attention by unleashing a bombard of questions about her father. "He was your dad, right? He isn't a doctor or anything is he?"

Lili shook her head- slower than usual, Lovino and Matthew noticed. "My mother is a doctor. _Vati _is the chief of police."

"Oh…," Alfred said, deflating instantly. "I can't help but think I've met him somewhere, though…."

Lili shrugged her thin shoulders. "Maybe you've seen him at the store?" she quietly guessed after coughing into the crook of her arm. The cough seemed to wrack her whole body.

"Hey… are you okay?" Lovino asked when she coughed again, this time into her hands. The look of terror on her face when she pulled back told him that _no_, she was not alright. Lili cried out in surprise at the blood on her shaking hands. Alfred instantly picked her up and ran off towards the hallway. Lovino and Matthew bolted after him, running for the nurse. Lili's body shook with more coughs, blood spitting out on Alfred's shirt. He quieted her attempts at an apology, jogging up the stairs. _Good thing I'm a ripped football player_, Alfred inwardly congratulated himself. But when Lili's eyes drooped shut, her face even more pale, he picked up speed, leaving Lovino and Matthew huffing in the distance.

"NURSE!" Alfred screeched, skidding to a stop outside the nurse's office. Befuddled teachers poked their head out of the doors to see what the commotion was about. Students followed their examples when they each gasped.

Francis Bonnefoy, however, didn't calm his class and resume the lesson where it left off. "W-work on pages 50 and 51!" he called before rushing out.

Alfred charged into the office, laying Lili down. Blood darkened the front of her dress and chin, dark maroon contrasting against her porcelain face. "Go to the office and call her parents," the nurse instructed, instantly setting to try and revive her while calling for an ambulance.

"O-okay," Alfred stuttered. He met Francis at the door. "Lili Zwingli," he explained, zooming back downstairs. "She fainted in lunch. Mattie'll be here in- Geez!" Alfred burst when Matthew and Lovino finally caught up. "What the heck took you guys so long?"

"W-we're not freaking Michael Phelps like you are," Lovino panted. He pushed past them to check on Lili, ignoring the nurse's curt "Get out!"

Matthew turned back to Alfred, but the brunette was already gone. The blonde looked up at his father when he put a hand on his shoulder. "Let's go get their stuff. I'll call Arthur or Antonio to come and pick you all up."

"_O-Oui_," Matthew quietly whispered, the overwhelming shock of the sudden turn of events reverting him to French. He stiffly, slowly, turned to walk back downstairs to the no-doubt frenzied cafeteria. Matthew and Francis could hear the commotion from the end of the hall. Several other teachers were yelling for the students to calm down, telling them that the problem would be resolved shortly, and that everything was alright.

Francis snorted as he walked past the other teachers to Mattie's table. "You're acting like there's been a shooting," he said. "An ambulance is coming to pick her up."

A crowd had gathered around Matthew when Francis turned back. Francis pushed his way through the students, everyone of them demanding to be told the details of what had just occurred. They ignored them, retrieving the forgotten books and Lili's purse, before escaping back upstairs.

Francis ignored his student's questions, telling Matthew to sit down at his desk. The boy silently obeyed, his face blank and eyes troubled. Francis frowned, but didn't press him to explain what was wrong. Matthew, such an innocent, caring boy, was obviously in shock. Francis was beginning to think bringing him back to class was a bad idea, but Matthew let out a haggard sigh and dropped his face into his arms on the desk.

"Alright," Francis addressed his students, "everyone hand in your work. I trust you were doing that instead of talking?"

((((()))))

Alfred had appeared at the door shortly after that, finally looking tired after all the running he had done. So as not to further disrupt Francis's class, he silently went to sit beside Matthew, patting his shoulder and assuring him everything was fine, and that Lovino had already gotten a brief, curt explanation from the nurse before the paramedics had come to pick Lili up.

Apparently, she had been diagnosed with cancer over the summer.

((((()))))

"I can't believe they wouldn't let me go with her," Lovino muttered, forcing his sorry self upstairs. Alfred and Matthew had already escaped into the safe confines of the Kirkland residence with Arthur, who had come to check them out of school, Alfred no doubt feeding Matthew nonsense about sunshine and rainbows and how the world really wasn't as awful as everyone thought it was.

Sometimes he could be so stupid.

Lovino let himself in with his key- Antonio was probably sleeping after a hard day at the farm shoveling snow off of the dirt road (a favor he did every year). It was hard work, so Lovino figured he'd let the bum sleep and eat dinner alone.

But, much to his surprise, when Lovino walked in, he found Antonio talking on the phone. His hair was a mess and he was in his pajamas, so he must've just woken up. Antonio was letting the person on the other end speak a lot- also confusing, because Antonio liked to ramble needlessly to whomever had the guts to call him. He didn't notice right away when Lovino came inside. Another sign that something was up. Lovino quietly took off his coat at the front door, trying to overhear the conversation. He was speaking to a woman that vaguely sounded familiar to him, but it was too old for the girls at the farm and too young to be _Abuela _Fernandez-Carriedo.

"…Alright, when he gets back, I'll…. Oh! Lovino! When did you come in?" Antonio finally noticed, turning around. "Everything's alright about that girl, isn't it?"

Lovino was struck into silence. Antonio was… crying. But, he never cried. _Never_. Not during the divorce, not at Jeanne's funeral. Antonio smiled when no one else would. He was everyone's ray of sunshine- their sunny Spain. "Wh-what's wrong?" Lovino stuttered. He could tell him about Lili later. Wordlessly, Antonio handed him the phone. "H-hello? Who is this?"

_When I thought today couldn't get worse…._

"Lovino," the woman breathed.

Antonio rubbed his shoulder, then quietly excused himself.

Lovino almost dropped the phone. That voice… he hadn't heard it in ten years. Not since… not since the divorce. "…_Mamma?_"

"_Sì, l'amore, sì. E 'la tua mamma_," Aria said. Lovino could hear the sad smile in her words. She seemed so genuinely happy to hear from him. Hard to believe, when most of his memories of her consisted of her ignoring him and yelling at Antonio for stupid things. "Antonio said something about a girl- don't tell me my little man has a girlfriend."

A blush creeped over his cheeks. "Sh-shut up! She is not my girlfriend! It-It's not like that," he ended awkwardly, just knowing she was going to take it wrong. He was right, of course. Aria offered him a chuckle. "But anyway, what'd you do to make _Papá _cry? Good Lord, don't tell me you're planning on getting back together with him-"

"No!" she burst, aghast. "No, no, no. I'm engaged to someone else- you'll meet him when you come from the funeral. Feli is torn apart, Lovino. He's been locked in his room all day."

"Who died?" Lovino asked absently, now more focused on fruitlessly trying to imagine his brother. His baby brother, his _fratello_- the worst part of the divorce those many years ago. Lovino had loved his brother dearly, nearly more than anything in the world. Sure, he was annoying when he woke up in the middle of the night crying, but Lovino didn't care. He was cute and Feli had loved him too. Antonio had a few pictures of him here and there that he had brought with him when they moved. Feliciano was still a baby in everyone one of them, almost always with Lovino at his side. Lovino had no idea what his brother looked like now.

Aria's voice turned haggard with a sigh. "Your grandfather, Roma."

"_Abuelo _died?" Lovino repeated incredulously. "Y-you don't mean, the Harvard professor and painter Grandpa Roma, do you? How did he die? He was the picture of health!" _At least he was ten years ago, the last I saw of him._

"_Sì_, Lovino. Your _Nonno _Roma. He had a heart attack a while back, and he never fully recovered from it. We tried our best, took him to the best doctors, but…." Another tired sigh and her voice dropped lower and slower, like she was fighting a losing battle against tears. "But he's gone now. He… he said before he died that he wanted you to be at the funeral. He wanted you to get to know your brother. It'll really help him get over _Nonno _if you come, Lovino."

_So I'm going to be used as a cheer-up for Feli? The brother _you _stole from us ten years ago? You don't care about seeing me- you just want your precious Feliciano happy again. You've probably turned him into a brat like you!_

Suddenly, another voice in the background picked up. It was low but kind, belonging to a man about Aria's age. "…says he wants to fix the pasta tonight. Who're you talking to now, honey?"

"Lovino, the other one," Aria answered away from the phone. Lovino narrowed his eyes at the receiver. _The other one?_

"Ah," the man simply said. "I'll help Feliciano in the kitchen, okay?"

"_Grazie_, Marco. Tell him to take it easy on the parmesan this time! It nearly swallowed the sauce the other day. I'm sorry, Lovino, but I have to go, alright? I'll see you at the funeral. _Ciao!_"

And just like that, she was gone.

Lovino laid the phone on the counter and took a seat, putting his face in his hands. "Ten years," he muttered, "and that's it? Thanks, Mom. Thanks a lot."

After a moment of sitting there, Lovino put the phone back on the hook and moved to the refrigerator. Feliciano, Aria, and Marco were having pasta for dinner. Lili was in the hospital, having to undergo who-knows-what to try and figure out why her so-called stage one, harmless cancer was making her so… so sick like that.

But while they were busy with that, Lovino was going to fix himself a turkey sandwich with American cheese and two slices of a tomato. And on the off chance that he was feeling generous, he might even make Antonio one too.

Actually, he _was _feeling generous. But only because Antonio had been crying and it had apparently been a long, terrible day for them both. When Lovino brought the sandwich to his room, Antonio didn't make a fuss about moving to the kitchen, so they ate on his bed. "I bet he's all grown up," Antonio said at long last, taking a forlorn bite out of his sandwich.

"Big enough to fix pasta," Lovino replied blandly, keeping his gaze leveled on the floor.

"…Is she alright?" Antonio finally asked, quietly and cautiously.

Lovino wasn't sure why, but tears suddenly sprang to his eyes. Before Lovino could even tell him anything, Antonio pulled him into a hug. His arms automatically wrapped around his father. For the first time all day, Lovino didn't feel so miserable- in fact he felt like he was finally letting everything that had been bothering him loose.

When had been the last time he'd opened up like this? Lovino couldn't even remember. He had always yelled at Antonio when he went into one of his "let's have a father-son hug!" moments, instead coming up with some excuse to get away from him. It had been that way for a long time- probably for ten whole years. Lovino kept everything bottled up for that long- all the fears he'd had when Alfred and Arthur started a stupid argument, thinking that Alfred was going to run away and never come back; when Max had fallen ill, making Lovino instantly assume he was going to quit the farm and leave him- What was it about him that made him think everyone was going to leave him?

_Oh, that's right, _Lovino bitterly thought to himself. _It's because I'm a kid who came from a dysfunctional family. I'm screwy because my parents divorced and I left my brother and now my grandfather is dead and he was the only one who wanted me to stay and… and…!_

"I hate this," Lovino miserably croaked out. Antonio didn't say a word. Instead, he finally pulled back to take a look at him. Lovino instantly wiped his eyes, hating that he was crying like this too.

Antonio cracked a smile. "_Te amo, mi hijo. Te amo siempre, comprende? Todo va a estar bien, lo prometo._"

"It's not okay! Grandpa just _died_, _Papá_! Lili has cancer and she's going to die too!"

"It's going to be okay!" Antonio repeated with more force. "You think I'm chipper with all of this?"

Lovino instantly shut his mouth.

"Roma was practically a second father," Antonio started, lowering his voice again. He was almost as quiet as Matthew. "I hated having to leave Feliciano- I hated to leave at all! I've had lots of family and old friends die on me, Lovi, and none of it was easy. But I kept on going, because there's as much good in the world as there is bad. And let me tell you, it is so much easier to love than to hate. If you hate something, it'll only make you sadder. You have to be stronger than the bad things- you have to smile. Just like Roma said. In two days, we're going to meet Feliciano. Do you really want your brother to see you like this? Moping around, hating the world and everyone and everything in it? Your life isn't miserable, Lovino!"

Lovino quietly stood, grabbing their empty plates. "I have homework to do. I'll be over at Alfred's. That's probably where Mattie is."

The Italian stood in the doorway. He let out a slow deep breath before saying, "_Te amo tambien._"

((((()))))

The funeral home was bursting over with sobbing women, hundreds of children, and a few men Lovino assumed to be Roma's son-in-laws or children. Just as he had expected, neither Antonio nor Lovino recognized any of the people- most of whom appeared to be of Mediterranean decent.

Inside was just as crowded, the bodies colliding in conversation nearly halting the line to Roma's casket. Lovino felt his nonexistent claustrophobia closing in on him, making his breath come in short. Of course, Antonio, who was a complete idiot, took this as meaning he was scared. Which he wasn't. "It's going to be okay, yeah? I haven't seen Feliciano in ten years either. I bet Aria's going to hug you so tight you'll explode! That's what I'd do."

"Great," Lovino muttered. Steeling an irritated scowl on his face, he grabbed the smiling Spaniard's wrist and shoved through the crowd, pushing his way to the front of the room.

Sobbing aunts hugged everyone that came near their obviously huge personal bubble, and unfortunately Lovino was no exception. "Oh, Feli, I'm so sorry! I know you and Roma were so close! Tissue, Feli?"

Feli? Oh. Feliciano. They thought he was Feliciano.

"I-I'm not-"

"FELICIANO!" the next aunt wailed, pulling him into her chest.

"Feli!"

Eventually, after being smothered by every single freaking aunt on Aria's side of the family, _every last one of them _confusing him for Feliciano, he was released before Roma's casket.

Roma looked exactly as Lovino remembered him: Lovino's dark red hair, the stubble of a beard he refused to shave or grow out… and Lovino swore he could still see Roma's signature smirk hidden in his closed eyes that also looked just like his. Roma's favorite Rolex was on his wrist. It almost brought tears to his eyes- _almost_. Roma was lazy, his jokes were awful, and he had spawned the most hateful woman on the face of the earth, but he had good standards when it came to honor.

He believed Lovino would always make something great out of himself, despite how Aria and seemingly everyone else swore he'd always be a troublemaker. On the day of the divorce, Roma had promised that he wouldn't forget him, no matter what the outcome of the case was.

Roma had kept his promise, sending him and Antonio Christmas and birthday presents the first few years they were apart. Antonio sent him pictures of Lovino, gushing over the phone how tall he was getting and how he looked more and more like Roma with each passing day.

It had annoyed Lovino to death. But now, with Roma gone, Lovino realized… he wrong to scorn the happy voice on the other end of the phone. He was wrong to think Roma was merely mocking him with his riches that he shared only with Aria and not Antonio.

"I'm an idiot," Lovino murmured, looking down at his mirrored face. "I'm an idiot, and I didn't deserve to have a grandfather like you."

Too busy in his own thoughts to notice his arrival, an auburn haired ten-year-old popped up beside him. "Grandpa Roma wouldn't like you saying that."

Lovino flinched in surprise, turning wide, amber eyes on the boy that had appeared out of nowhere. However, he quickly recovered with a scowl. "Butt out, kid."

The boy looked up with a ragged smile and a chuckle. His eyes were red and puffy, like he'd been crying for hours and was prone to start another round of sobbing any second. "You're probably one of my cousins, right? I'm Aria's son, Feliciano Vargas."

Lovino instantly froze, staring down at the short, skinny little boy. Feliciano frowned, then looked down at his baggy suit. "I don't… have anything on me, do I?"

"N-no," Lovino whispered, eyes locked on Feliciano's hazel eyes. The boy had Antonio's hair, but Aria's face and eyes. He was insanely skinny- just like Lili. Lovino swallowed down the sight of the small girl unconscious, on a stretcher headed towards an ambulance. She was going to be okay. She had to be okay. Lovino cast the ever growing crowd a desperate look, hoping that Antonio would pop up and come to his rescue.

Feliciano looked him over once more, tapping his foot, his teary eyes starting to clear up with something to distract him from thoughts of Roma. "Let me guess, 'cause you look familiar and I should know who you are. Um… Tia's son? No, no, Jackson has black hair. Gloria's? Nope, if you were Andrew, you'd be giving me a noogie. You're Grant, aren't you?"

Lovino's mouth instantly went dry. _He has no idea who I am. Maybe… maybe I should just… leave?_

But the younger boy spewed another way-off guess, shaking his head in irritation. "Too many cousins…. So, who are you?"

"_People look up to those who smile and strive to get to where they want to go. It's how you gain respect, and without respect, you can't expect to be someone Feli will look up to one day."_

Lovino stole another glance back at his grandfather. A smile spread out on his face as he turned back to Feliciano.

"I'm Lovino. Lovino Romulus Fernandez-Carriedo," he specified, as Feliciano's mouth shut and his eyes grew wide. "My dad is Antonio. Aria… is my mom too.

"And you, Feliciano, are my brother."

**Translations:**

**German-**

_**Vati- daddy**_

_**Mutti- mommy**_

**French-**

_**Oui- yes**_

**Italian-**

_**Mamma- Mom**_

_**Sì, l'amore, sì. E 'la tua mamma- Yes, my love, yes. It's your mom**_

_**Fratello- brother**_

_**Sì- yes**_

_**Nonno- grandpa**_

_**Grazie- thank you**_

_**Ciao- bye**_

**Spanish-**

_**Papá- dad**_

_**Abuelo- grandpa**_

_**Te amo, mi hijo. Te amo siempre, comprende? Todo va a estar bien, lo prometo- I love you, my son. I always love you, understand? Everything is going to be alright, I promise.**_

_**Te amo tambien- I love you too.**_


	11. Chapter 11

**Sorry, but no Lovi and Feli. Instead, you get the Nordics. Hopefully their personalities weren't butchered too bad. I'm basing their personalities on how I've seen them in different fan fictions (since it's impossible for me to find the full-version Hetalia manga and see them in canon). Anyway, aside from their OOC-ness, they all have Tino's last name because I think Finland is awesome. Seriously, he has a dog whose name translates into flower-egg. I think that's pretty sweet. XD**

**I probably won't be following my schedule much longer because I'm too impatient when I finish a chapter early. However, I'll still update within the week.**

**So with all that, I give you chapter 11!**

**Chapter 11-**

Alfred had finished his homework in silence, skipped football practice, and actually ate all of his vegetables for the next few days.

Needless to say, Arthur was worried.

Had he… somehow found out about Samantha? Even worse, was he mad at Arthur for not telling him? But Alfred merely said he was tired when Arthur asked if anything was wrong. Matthew had been the same that first day, denying dinner in favor of falling asleep on Alfred's bed until school was over and Francis came back. The blonde was still shaken up about the whole experience, but no one besides Francis, Arthur, and Alfred seemed to notice. To everyone else, Matthew was just as quiet as always- nearly unnoticeable until they bumped into him, hurrying on with their unnecessary busy way.

Maybe Alfred was so… so _different _because of Matthew? Alfred made up an excuse, claiming to have promised Matthew he'd help him on some school project or something, when Arthur asked him this.

Why was he so distant of late? Alfred used to always tell Arthur everything- about his and Matthew's escapades with Alice and Lovino, about how he cut Feliks Łukasiewicz's hair in kindergarten (he'd come home in tears that day because Toris Lorinaitis had chopped off a strand of his hair in his friend's defense), and how he and Ludwig were the best football players ever, according to Alfred. What happened to that sweet little boy who refused to leave his side?

_He grew up_.

Arthur sighed and set to cleaning up the kitchen, deciding to leave the matter alone for now. Once their shock over Lili died down, Alfred and Matthew would no doubt return to normal.

"Nikolaus! Can you believe we're all getting a room together? All five of us! This is going to be GREAT!"

"Wonderful. Stuck in a cramped, claustrophobic space with my annoying big brother."

"That's not nice to say about Berwald! That reminds me, big guy, if we have to share beds like the last apartment we had, you're sleeping with Tino."

"Why me?"

"At least you won't be snuggling up to me anymore."

"You're complaining about me now, Emil? Didn't you say that time before last you hated sharing a bed with Abel because he always rolled over on you?"

"He did! I'd rather hear Berwald's snoring than ever sleep with _him _again!"

"I d'n't sn're."

"Yes you do," all four young men intoned.

Arthur poked his head outside, eyes growing wide at seeing five blondes, two of them huge and tall, the other three shorter and skinny. A small white dog patiently sat at their feet. The siblings must have smuggled the animal in somehow- Arthur knew that if the landlord heard about it, he'd have them kicked out in an instant. Maybe they would be able to keep the dog hidden with all the noise they made, overpowering the small white dog's quiet bark.

The second shortest young man, who looked about seventeen, turned around in surprise when the dog gave a quiet bark and pawed at his pants. A smile spread out on his face upon seeing Arthur. "Hello, there!" he cheerfully said, walking over to shake hands. The others paused their bickering and teasing long enough to notice they weren't alone any longer. "I'm Tino Vainamoinen. We just moved in- my brothers and I."

"Oh. It's nice to meet you all. I'm Arthur Kirkland. I, um, heard all five of you are staying together?"

A frown came to Tino's face. "Yeah. Well, we're used to it, at least."

One of taller blondes grinned and threw his arm around his frighteningly stoic brother. "Yep! We're best buddies forever! Always been together!"

Tino pointed back to him. "He's our eldest brother, Abel. The one beside him is Berwald, the second oldest. Then there's Nikolaus in the middle, me, and our little brother, Emil. The dog is, um, Hanatamago. You… you won't tell on us for keeping him will you?"

With the look Tino gave him, his lip barely puckered out and blue eyes on the edge of pathetic tears, Arthur had to shake his head. "I don't mind him at all," he assured the young blonde.

Tino's happy smile came back, bringing with it a smile on Arthur's face. "Great! Thank you so much! See, Berwald gave him to me as a birthday present last year, and he's just as much family to us as each other. I don't know what I'd do without him!"

Berwald, though his expression barely changed, offered him a grin- if one could call it that. His grin was more of the corners of his lips barely turning up a fraction. "Y're w'lc'me, T'no."

Arthur blinked at the man's deep mumble. "W-well, down the hall lives Lars and Alice Johannes, brother and sister. Beside you lives Antonio Fernandez-Carriedo and his son Lovino, but they're currently away for Lovino's grandfather's funeral. Between them and my home is Francis Bonnefoy and his son Matthew. My boy's with them at the moment- Alfred Kirkland."

"Alfred Kirkland?" Abel suddenly perked up at the name. He crossed his arms over Nikolaus's head and dropped his chin. "We heard about him when we signed up Emil and Tino at the high school. He's the football player who ran that sick chick across the school to the nurse, right?"

"That's Alfred."

"Pretty cool kid," Abel decided, grinning widely. Nikolaus ducked, making Abel stumble forward having lost his leaning post. In one swift moment, Abel's younger brother elbowed him in the ribs. "Ow, Niko!"

The blonde narrowed his eyes and huffily said, "Stop using me as an arm rest, you oaf."

They were certainly going to prove to be entertainment for their floor- that is, unless they killed each other first. "Well. If you boys ever need anything, you can call on me, alright?" Arthur conceded with a slightly forced smile.

"Thanks, old man!" Abel burst, instantly turning back to their new room. "Okay, guys, let's see our new place!" He whooped and rushed inside, heading straight for one of the bedrooms. "I CALL THE QUEEN!"

Tino quickly apologized for his brother, then ran in with the rest of his siblings. Their bickering over who slept with who was louder than one of Lovino's outbursts.

When Lars emerged from his apartment, scowl etched on his face, Arthur merely nodded grimly. The scarred man narrowed his eyes at his new neighbors, muttering under his breath about loud-mouth Italians and pedophilic Spaniards. He escaped back into his apartment just as quickly as he had arrived, leaving Arthur with a wry smile on his face. Emil looked about fourteen or fifteen, meaning he was probably in Alfred and Matthew's grade. Tino was most likely a senior. It looked like Arthur would have to start cooking more afternoon snacks after school.

((((()))))

"So you're on your way to Massachusetts?" Lili asked in surprise into her cell phone. Vash had snuck it in for her so she could call her friends. Of course, he wasn't very happy to learn she had wanted to call a _boy_- a _boy _who had a reputation that didn't exactly reach up to the chief of police's standards. But Vash figured that since Lili was doing considerably better than two days ago, he would allow her one phone call to this Lovino Fernandez-Carriedo.

"_Yeah, unless _Papá _gets us lost again. I swear, it's like he's never used a GPS before."_

"_I haven't!"_

"_Why didn't you tell me that _before _we spent three hours lost in Pennsylvania!"_ the Italian's voice shouted across the phone. Vash cocked a blonde eyebrow at the buzz.

"_Haha, must have slipped my mind!"_

Lili chuckled at the father and son. Vash smiled at hearing her twinkling laugh. She was still pale and complained her chest hurt every so often, but it was wonderful to hear her laugh. There was nothing more Vash could wish for than for her to be happy.

A knock sounded at the door and Lili quickly said goodbye, handing her phone back to Vash to keep in his pocket. Zira and another doctor walked in.

The report.

The smile Lili had donned while talking to Lovino was gone now, her lips slightly trembling in fear of what she'd be told. Zira joined Vash at Lili's side, taking her daughter's hand.

"We discovered a mass in your lungs that we hadn't noticed before. We'll have to have immediate surgery by the end of the week to remove the tumor. The blood clot that caused your… episode came from the tumor. After we remove it, you'll have to go through chemotherapy for a few months to assure it won't come back. With all luck, the clot will go away and you won't have to stay on blood thinners."

"But it's still stage one, right?" Vash asked, his worry well-masked. "After this, she'll get better?"

The doctor hesitated a moment, but then nodded. "Yes. She should be fine."

_Should be_. Two words one never wanted to hear in a hospital.

The doctor quietly made his leave.

Lili leaned into Vash's shoulder, quiet tears wetting his shirt. Vash didn't care, wrapping his arms around her thin frame. Lili was the only child he had. Before her, both of his sons had died at a young age. She was the only one who had lived. He couldn't lose her- he couldn't lose his baby girl.

"It'll be alright," Vash promised. "_Sie werden durch diese bekommen_."

Zira clutched the report in her hands, and quietly left the room, dabbing at her tears. It wasn't stage one anymore. It was worse- considerably worse.

"I don't want to die, _Vati_."

((((()))))

"U-um, _keun hyeong_?"

Kiku looked up from _Final Fantasy: Crisis Core _to see Yong Soo, nervously holding his stack of books from school. Kiku smiled and nodded to his unasked question. "I'll help you with your homework."

"Thank you!" he burst, pulling over a chair to the booth. It was a slow day at Red Flower, so Kiku was able to steal a table for himself. His backpack occupied the other side of the booth, nearly taking up all the room. "Okay, so I have no idea what the heck this whole math thing is about. Obviously algebra didn't originate in Korea."

Yong Soo had been obsessed about Korea for as long as Kiku could remember. It probably didn't help that his name was Korean (his mother had decided that since they had two children with Chinese names and one child with a Japanese name, why not give the last kid a Korean name?). Being half Chinese and half Japanese compelled Yong Soo to turn to Korea as his third nationality, just so he could be a part of all of the major eastern Asian countries. He had taught himself Korean over the internet and liked to switch over to it whenever he felt the need to annoy his siblings. He further backed up his obsession by claiming every good thing in the world had originated in Korea, thus making it obviously the best place on earth.

"Swallowing your pride to ask for homework help?" Xiao Mei smirked, sliding over. "I'll have you know that Tao told me that Yong Soo slept through math today. That's why he needs help."

"Huh-uh!" Yong Soo burst, jumping out of his seat. "Tao's just saying that because I didn't let him cheat off of my book report for _Around the World in Eighty Days_!"

"The one that you made me write for you?"

"_Around the World in Eighty Days _originated in Korea! There's no way I would cheat off of you!"

"_Around the World in Eighty Days _was written by Jules Verne, an _Englishman_!"

"_Mullon geugeos-eun hangug giwon!_"

"_Tíngzhǐ jiǎng hán wén_!"

Kiku sighed, turning back to his PSP. Once his siblings got into an argument, it would be a good twenty minutes before they regained rationality. But as the minutes dragged on, and Yong Soo and Xiao Mei continued to argue back and forth in Korean and Mandarin, it didn't seem like they would be stopping anytime soon without Tao's intervention. And, just his luck, Tao had just entered the empty dining area.

"_Nǐ huì shì ānjìng_?" Tao sighed, walking to meet his siblings. Xiao Mei and Yong Soo rounded on him, planning on dragging him into their petty argument. "Yong Soo slept through class because he stayed up watching Korean music videos on Youtube. I didn't want to copy the paper; I just wanted to know how to spell the author's name. You didn't write his report for him, because I distinctly remember you fussing at Yong Soo to shut his face about Korea this and Korea that before leaving him alone to write it. Lastly, I gotta tell you that Jules Verne really _is _English, Yong Soo."

"_Domo_ _arigatogozaimashita_," Kiku gratefully bowed to his younger brother. Tao offered him a one-sided shrug in return, spinning on his heel to return to whence he came- probably back to the kitchen to help Yao. He was really the only child who enjoyed cooking and working around the restaurant. At least, after he had set off as many fireworks as possible behind the mall.

Like Yong Soo, Tao had a fetish for fireworks that always seemed to get him in trouble for one thing or another. But unlike Yong Soo's Korean, both he and Xiao Mei loved watching fireworks as much as Tao, so there was hardly a dispute about telling on him. Kiku didn't nearly get as excited as his younger siblings, but enjoyed them nonetheless. There was nothing better, in his opinion, than to sit in the mall parking lot on Independence Day with customers and workers alike to watch Tao set off his fireworks. There was nothing more beautiful than seeing the sky lit up in brilliant hues of rainbow sparks, slowly dying out and joining the stars.

Kiku suddenly remembered he was supposed to call Alfred. He quickly saved his game, mourning the loss of valuable time in Modeoheim with SOLDIER First Class Zack Fair, and whipped out his cell phone. Alfred answered quickly, no doubt with a smile. "KIKU!"

"Ah, h-hello, Alfred," he stuttered, still unused to Alfred shouting his name every time he saw or talked to the Asian. "So, about this tutoring…. I've talked with a few others who wouldn't mind the extra studying time, so how about we meet at the coffee shop behind the school?"

"Sure! Uh, mind doing it in the morning? 'Cause my brain never wants to function right after practice. Ooh! And can I bring Mattie? He's super awesome with French and stuff!"

Kiku wryly grinned at his atrocious grammar. Hopefully this "Mattie" person could help with that. "That is fine. I'll call the others. Is seven o'clock good for you?"

"Perfect, dude! I'll see you then, okay?"

"You need to stop being so nice. Like, tell the freeloaders to shut up and get off your back," Tao advised from the corner of the room. He was washing the tables, wet rag and cleaning spray in his hands. As always, his face was expressionless. "That guy sounded really annoying."

Kiku offered him a small smile. "He's one of my friends from school. He can be… a bit much, at times, but he's a good person. If you don't mind my saying, perhaps you should learn to smile a bit like him."

Tao gave him another shrug, starting on his cleaning. "Eh. Not my style."

"Maybe not. But a smile every once in a while wouldn't be too bad either."

"Yeah, well, you opening up a bit to us wouldn't be all that bad either."

Kiku's smile faded. He quietly looked at the phone in his hands. Tao sighed but didn't say anymore.

Maybe… maybe Kiku should tell Yao. It would be better, wouldn't it…? But he'd be so disappointed- so _ashamed_. Kiku wouldn't be able to do that to his father. He was the perfect eldest son. It was his responsibility to inherit the restaurant, just as his father and grandfather had done before him. It was pointless to study history and animation with his future already laid out in front of him.

Yet….

"He won't get too mad, you know," Tao quietly said again, his back facing away from Kiku. "If you tell him to let me have the restaurant. It's not like he's gonna disown you or something."

Kiku sat in silence a moment longer. Then, with a quiet sigh, he stood, gathering his things. "I'd better help clean as well," he said, avoiding Tao's dark, expressionless eyes as he passed them. The very same eyes bore into his back as he left, silently repeating what Tao had just said. Maybe Yao wouldn't be mad if Kiku told him he had absolutely no intention of following tradition. But then again, he'd still….

Kiku couldn't do that to him. If… if his future truly lied in making his father happy, so be it.

((((()))))

"Be good for your sister this weekend, _deti_. Remember to study."

Ivan nodded, trying to pull a smile on his face before his father. But, looking into his bloodshot eyes, it was hard to look a drunk in the face, even if it was his father. Ivan wasn't even sure if Morozko should have been driving- he had come home later than usual, the scent of hard vodka radiating off his person. But he had been sober enough to make it safely to Katyusha's, so hopefully he would make it home alright as well. "We will," Ivan assured him.

"Do you want some dinner before you go home, Father?" Katyusha lightly asked, seemingly as worried as Ivan about Morozko's safety. "I fixed some soup."

"_Nyet_. I must hurry home."

Sure enough to his word, as soon as Ivan had gotten his and Natalya's bags for the weekend, Morozko drove off, offering only a curt wave in farewell. Katyusha tutted nervously to herself, but waved her brother and sister inside nonetheless. "Well, as I said, I fixed soup, so feel free to eat when you get settled in."

Natalya sniffed disdainfully at the untidy living room. It had been hastily cleaned- it figures that Katyusha would wait until the last minute to pick up a bit before Ivan and Natalya came. The rug in the living room was slightly awry, the pillows on the couch carelessly thrown around. Ivan, however, thought all this made the place more homey. Katyusha's house smelled of warm vanilla and brown sugar, courtesy of the cookies she was always baking. She liked to bring them to school for Ivan at lunch. He always saved a few for Natalya when they went back home.

"Oh, I heard the tryouts for hockey are this Monday, Ivan," Katyusha started, trailing after her brother and sister. "Do you want me to stay after school for you?"

A troubled look suddenly came over his face. "What's wrong?" Katyusha asked.

"It's nothing…. Father said that I was better off not playing hockey, so I'll guess I'll focus on school work more."

_Again? Won't he let you do anything? _Despite her grumbling thoughts, Katyusha offered him a smile. "W-well, you can still play hockey here when winter comes! I know where this very nice pond is not too far from the house, so-"

"He won't do it because Father said no," Natalya blandly told her, cutting her short. The blonde flashed navy eyes up at her sister. "And you know how _Otets _is."

The three were silent.

"I'll think of something," Katyusha said determined. "Until then, you two start on homework, alright?"

Ivan waited until Katyusha had disappeared back into the kitchen before quietly saying, "I hope she doesn't do anything that will get her in trouble."

Natalya frowned and hugged her brother's arm. "I hope _you _don't get in trouble. _Otets _can't touch Katyusha now that she's on her own. You still live under his roof."

He smiled and patted her head. "I'll be fine, da?

But Natalya still had her doubts.

((((()))))

_Show me how to lie, you're getting better all the time, and turning all against one is an art that's hard to teach._

"Alfred, I can hear that music all the way over here with the telly on. Turn it down."

"Huh? You say something, Dad?"

Arthur shot him a withering look. "That noise you call music. Turn it down."

Alfred brightly smiled, pretending not to have heard. "Sorry, didn't get that. Anyway, me and Mattie are almost done with the project!"

Their "project" was Alfred listening to insanely loud music while poking at Matthew in an attempt to "unzombiefy" him. Arthur's efforts had long proven futile since Francis sent them both back to his house, yet again claiming to have to go to Wal-Mart for something or another. He must have found some poor, unsuspecting woman with no idea who she was dealing with. Arthur pitied her, whoever she was.

Suddenly, Arthur's head snapped back to the kitchen table. "Wait a minute, that had better be the clean version!" he snapped, finally recognizing the song.

"It is, chill," he absently waved, stealing Matthew's glasses.

"Hey! Give those back, Alfred!"

"Then stop reading that stupid book and pay attention to me!"

Arthur got to experience one of the rare times Matthew got mad. The blonde angrily jumped up to his feet, grabbing Alfred's wrist. "Give them back! Stop acting like a two year old!" he burst, his voice barely reaching over a whisper. "I can't see without them!"

"Alfred, stop teasing him!"

When he refused, cackling as he dashed to his room, Matthew gritted his teeth and _tackled _into him. Alfred, completely taken by surprise, met the floor hard. The glasses skittered out of his hand, bumping into the door to Alfred's room. Matthew huffily rose to his feet, straightening his hoodie, and retrieved his glasses. After inspecting them for any cracks, which there were thankfully none, Matthew gave a curt farewell to Arthur and walked out the door.

Alfred pouted on the floor, unwilling to leave the carpet. "Geez, he's all worked up over nothing."

"Are you sure about that, Alfred?"

The boy blinked and turned to Arthur, who had cut the TV off. The Englishman unhappily sighed, directing his emerald gaze to the wall beside him. "You know… ten years ago. Maybe what happened the other day reminded Matthew of then?"

"We were, like, four, Dad," Alfred blandly reminded him. "If I don't remember anything about back then, I really doubt Mattie does."

"But you didn't go through the same trauma."

The direction of this conversation was starting to make Alfred a bit guilty. However, he shrugged the feeling away, sure that everyone was just overreacting. "Francis is over it," Alfred mumbled, finally standing and readjusting his own glasses. "I mean, he has another girlfriend every few days."

Arthur groaned. "Don't even mention that lecherous Frenchie."

Alfred chuckled at this, victorious over having changed the subject. "Anyway, it's late, and I really do have a project. Mr. Karpusi's got us doing all this different crap for the Renaissance, and I haven't even started on most of it."

"Then get to work!" Arthur snapped.

With a chuckle, Alfred obeyed.

**Translations:**

**German-**

_**Vati- Daddy**_

_**Sie werden durch diese bekommen- You'll get through this**_

**Korean-**

_**Keun hyeong- Big brother**_

_**Mullon geugeos-eun hangug giwon!- Of course it originated in Korea!**_

**Chinese (Mandarin, maybe?)-**

_**Tíngzhǐ jiǎng hán wén!- Stop speaking Korean!**_

_**Nǐ huì shì ānjìng?- Will you both be quiet?**_

**Japanese-**

_**Domo arigatōgozaimashita- thank you very much**_

**Russian-**

_**Deti- children**_

_**Nyet- no**_

_**Otets- Father**_


	12. Chapter 12

**I don't know about any of you, but I think Romano and Holy Roman Empire could never be good friends. And that certainly isn't a spoiler, by the way. But don't you just think they'd be out for each other's blood, what with HRE looking and acting almost **_**exactly **_**like Germany and Romano being so "cruel" to Italy?**

**Also, I apologize for this chapter being a bit shorter than normal, but so as not to make it _too _long, I'm splitting it up into two chapters. More _Fratello _action next chapter!**

**Chapter 12-**

"And you, Feliciano, are my brother."

Feliciano went pale- _He had better not pass out on me!_- and took a step back, slowly shaking his head. He cast a pleading look down at Roma, only to make new tears spring to his eyes. "Y-You can't be him!" he burst at last, rubbing at his eyes. "M-my brother, he lives far away!"

"We came in for the funeral," Lovino explained helplessly. "Aria- no, Mom- said that Roma had wanted Dad and I to come. So… so we did. I'm sorry if you didn't want me to come, and as soon as I find my idiot of a father, we'll leave, so-"

Taking him by complete surprise, Feliciano rammed into him, sobbing into his shirt. "_Fratello_!" he cried, squeezing him tight. "You're my _fratello_! _N-Nonno _told me all about you! I-I thought I'd never get to see you! _Mamma_ said you and Dad didn't like us, so I was scared to call you, but I can't believe you'd come to say goodbye to Grandpa Roma! You're _Lovino_!"

"L-let me go!" Lovino burst, prying the crying ten-year-old off of him. "O-of course we came! I… I wanted to see you too," he admitted, seeming to pacify Feliciano. "I mean, the last time I saw you, you were in a diaper."

Feliciano laughed, wrapping his skinny arms around him in another crushing hug. "You wanted to see me too!"

"Geez, Feli, let me go! Can't you save all this crying crap until we're out of the funeral home?"

His brother jumped away in an instant, turning to Roma. "I-I'm sorry, Grandpa, I should've been more respectful! Come on, Lovino, you can come sit with me and _Mamma_!"

"_Mamma_? N-no, I have to find my dad- uh, our dad- and-"

Feliciano skidded to a halt, nearly making Lovino stumble over top of him. "M-Marco," he stuttered, chocolate eyes growing wide. The man before him was tall with jet-black hair and fierce dark eyes that narrowed down at him. Upon seeing Lovino, his arm being slowly crushed in the ten-year-old's surprising grasp, Marco's features softened. "Um, this is Lovino," Feliciano quietly introduced. "_Fratello_, this is Marco, _Mamma's _fiance. He's really nice! You guys can talk after the funeral, okay?"

"Aria's on the end with your uncles," Marco explained, nodding back to the front pew teeming over with aunts. "Go ahead and sit down. I think it's about to start."

Feli offered a tiny smile at that. "Hopefully they'll be nice for Grandpa Roma."

Leading him over to a row of very unfamiliar faces, Feliciano cheerfully popped up in front of two brunette men, both glaring at each other like their very existence was insufferable. A third man, who seemed to totally zone out the others' death glares, sat quietly. Those, Lovino deduced, were his uncles.

"_Eísai anypóforos_," the man in the middle growled, green eyes narrowed behind his curly locks.

"M-Mr. Karpusi?"

Herakles Karpusi suddenly looked away from his nemesis, cocking his head at Lovino. "Lovino?" he sleepily asked in surprise.

Lovino blinked. "Wait a minute, no way. Mr. Karpusi? You're my uncle?"

"You two know each other?" Feliciano excitedly burst. "That's so cool! Wait a minute, you don't go to-"

"Yeah. The famous Heta High School, he… heck," he corrected, seeing as how they were in church and he was before both his brother and his World History teacher, "on earth. Mr. Karpusi is our World History teacher."

If it were even possible, Feliciano seemed to get more excited, now rocking on the back of heels. "Ooh, this is _so _cool! It's almost like this book I read one time, where everyone knew everyone somehow and by the end of the book they're all really good friends and everyone gets a happy ending! Well, except for these two guys who die falling off of Niagara Falls and the girl who gets in a tragic accident involving a dog and a rocket launcher, but I don't really count them anyway."

All four of them took a simultaneous blink at the hyper little boy. Sadiq sighed and stretched back in his seat, "accidentally" elbowing Herakles. "Ya got a mouth like your mother, Feli. And what kind of weird stuff are you _reading_, kid?"

That was exactly what Lovino wanted to know. The kid seemed to get weirder and weirder by the second. But he was still Feliciano, _his brother- _and Lovino _was _friends with Alfred, so he wasn't so bad. Lovino decided to blame it all on Aria and that weird Marco dude who looked creepy.

Feliciano, completely forgetting about going back to Aria took a seat next to Herakles, giving a wide grin and ecstatic wave to the quiet brother- a man named "Uncle Gupta". Lovino nervously nodded in greeting before being dragged beside Feliciano. "I never knew you were a teacher!" the boy started. "Somehow I thought you'd be a cat doctor or something. Do you know any long-lost brothers of mine, Uncle Sadiq?"

"I think Hera there is an old cat lady, and I kinda doubt that, considering he's your only brother. Unless Antonio got hitched. Did he?"

"Dad's been single for ten years, and I don't blame the ladies. He's an idiot."

"That's not nice! But that means he's like me! A lot people say I'm kind of stupid too, but I know they're kidding. Well, I hope they're kidding. Oh, well. I'm not friends with them anyway."

But he didn't seem to care at all, resuming his former conversation.

While Feliciano and Herakles commenced reminiscing about Herakles's cats and their cute escapades, Lovino turned around to scan the faces for Antonio.

His father was in the very back of the chapel, sitting in the last pew. They locked eyes and Antonio gave him a thumbs up. Lovino scowled at him in return, wishing he wasn't in public and could properly yell at him not to be an idiot. Breaking Lovino away from his thoughts, Feliciano tugged on his sleeve. "You know, I just noticed, but you seem a lot like my friend Heilrich. He's quiet and likes to scowl too! He's kind of mean until you get to know him, though. Like, when we were in Kindergarten, he thought I was girl and said I was funny for dressing like a boy. Heilrich and his parents would have come too, but his Grandpa died just a few days ago too. They say he was _Nonno's _best friend. Hey, who's your best friend?"

"Do you ever shut up?" Lovino wondered, feeling a migraine coming on.

Feliciano obediently shut his mouth, but his smile remained plastered on his face. Beside the brothers, Sadiq and Herakles started another round of glaring. "Why do they hate each other?"

"Uncle Hera and Uncle Sadiq?" _Who else would I be talking about, idiot? _"Sadiq's kind of mean to Uncle Hera because Grandpa Roma married Herakles's mom, Damaris, after Sadiq's mom died when he was little. That, and he likes to be a bully, I think. Uncle Gupta doesn't really care either way." Feliciano's voice suddenly dropped lower. "He usually breaks up their fights, but I guess he's too sad about _Nonno _today. Uncle Gupta moved in beside him when he first got sick to take care of him. He's always been sure to look out for any of us when stuff happens. He's really nice!"

And thus Feliciano burst into another completely off-topic conversation that no one really listened to.

_Yep, that's a migraine_, Lovino decided, slumping in his seat.

But Feliciano, at some point in his story, had taken hold of his arm again. Noticing Lovino look at the contact in confusion, Feliciano smiled. "I'm really glad I got to meet you," he explained. "And I'm sorry if I'm annoying. I'll shut up if you want. Um… you don't mind me sitting with you, do you?"

In his sudden burst of politeness, Feliciano cast a glance across Lovino to where Marco had just sat down. "…I don't mind," Lovino said, getting a bad feeling once again from Marco. Something just wasn't right about him, he knew. And it seemed Feliciano knew that too, because he had gone into silence, his grip on his arm tightening the tiniest bit.

"Lovino?"

The brothers' heads snapped up. Aria, wearing a black dress that matched her dark hair, gasped and ran over to him, seeming to ignore the fact that she was wearing five-inch heels. "Lovino! _Il mio bambino_!" Before Lovino could prepare himself, he was met with a smothering hug. "Lovino, I've missed you so much! You're so handsome!" Aria drew back momentarily to dab at her eyes and ask Feli if her mascara was running. When he faithfully answered no, she squealed again and entered round two of the hug-fest. "I'm so glad you came! Where's Antonio?"

Lovino slightly narrowed his eyes. Her voice dropped to a dreaded tone when she mentioned his father. "In the back," he replied with the same tone. "Probably dying to join the crowd."

"I bet he is," she muttered under her breath. But she plastered a smile on her face and gave him one final internal-organ-crushing hug before sitting next to Marco. "You'll have to come by the house afterwards, Lovino. _Nonno _left you something before…."

Her eyes clouded and filled with tears. When her gaze dropped to the floor, Feliciano sprang up. "It's okay, _Mamma_!" he chirped anxiously, combing through her hair mechanically, like dealing with her breakdowns was a normal occurrence at the Vargas home. "He's in heaven, remember? It's alright- shh, don't cry, don't cry…."

Despite what he had just said, Feliciano ran his arm across his eyes. Mother and son crushed each other in a hug.

Lovino was really starting to feel like an intruder. What was he even _doing _here? They never should have come. Things were going to be just like when he was four- _Look at my son, Lovino! Can you believe how handsome he is? Looks just like Roma did! My wonderful son, come home at last!_

_Feli is worth it,_ Lovino steely reminded himself, dispelling the annoying thought out of his mind. _Feli is always worth it._

But how was he even sure of that, seeing as how he knew nothing about his brother? That wasn't entirely true, of course- he knew Feliciano was a kid too hyped up on sugar, completely weird, and probably a spoiled brat. It was very likely he was a spoiled brat.

"Hey, _Fratello_, are you listening to me?"

Lovino blinked and turned back to Feliciano, who had glued himself back to his side. "What?"

He smiled brightly. "I asked if you wanted to stay the night with me and go to church with us tomorrow!"

"Uh…."

"Alright! We can sleep together and- ooh! Dad has to come to! He's here, right? Right?"

"Feli, shush. It's starting."

Once again, Feliciano's eyes went wide, like he was suddenly put on the spot. He nervously look away from Marco and to the floor. "_Sì_…."

The funeral was nothing but an unending flood of tears. Lovino could hardly hear the preacher over everyone's sobbing. Feliciano had already soaked his clothes beyond measure, but Lovino put up with it. He wasn't sure _how _he did it, but at least no one was maimed.

That was always a good thing.

After a good three hours of endless tears and wails, things seemed to settle down for the end of the funeral. Family crowded outside to talk further, as if they hadn't gotten enough of each other yet. Herakles and Sadiq parted as soon as humanly possible, Herakles only pausing a moment to tell Lovino he'd see him on Monday. Gupta was on his way quickly as well, apologizing to everyone for his hasty leave because of his antique business. Feliciano waved largely at him as the three departed, his arm never leaving its iron grip around Lovino's arm. The thousands of aunts that had confused Lovino for his brother also left- without too much hassle, since Lovino was sure to hide from their annoying high-pitched squeals and fingers grabbing at every cheek they could find. Feliciano, however, took everything in good stride, promising each of them he'd see them soon, and thanking them for coming.

Lovino felt the hours stretch on as more and more family piled over to them and out the door, making their way slow with conversation and laughter at Roma's old antics. Lovino was sure he had heard Roma's entire life story by the time they could finally move from their spot at the front of the chapel. He had no idea how Herakles, Sadiq, and Gupta had left so fast- maybe had respect for being Roma's only sons out of a flood of whiny daughters? Or maybe Sadiq and Herakles' nagging each other parted a way for them, which Gupta took advantage of.

However they did it, Lovino really wanted to learn their secret.

It took yet another hour (or what felt like an hour) to finally reach the back of the chapel. Lovino nearly melted with relief when he saw Antonio stretching up in his seat, trying to pinpoint his face out of all the rest. He jumped up, a goofy grin wide on his face, when he finally caught sight of him. "Over here!" he called unnecessarily.

Lovino's relief disappeared in an instant when Aria and Feliciano stiffened.

_Wonderful._

"Come on," Lovino blandly said, looking down at Feliciano and his deer-stuck-in-headlights look. "I know he's a complete idiot, but he's not going to eat you or anything. Unless you taste like tomato."

Feliciano cracked a smile at that. "A-all right," he said, nearly yanking Lovino's arm out of the socket to weave through people.

He sure didn't look it, but the boy had quite the grip.

Right before they finally reached Antonio, a black mass materialized in front of the brothers. Bright blue, angry eyes narrowed out at Lovino through strands of pale blonde hair. The boy was intimidating- even if he did only reach up to Lovino's chest. But Feliciano was completely unfazed by the boy's dark glare. He whooped in glee and tackled the boy in a crushing hug.

Slowly but surely, Lovino began to regain feeling in his arm.

"Heilrich!" Feliciano burst, bubbling over with ecstatic happiness. "I didn't think you'd be able to come!"

Heilrich finally stopped glaring at Lovino to turn and nervously smile at Feliciano. "We were a little late, but I promised we'd make it, didn't I? Who is he?" he asked, turning the glare back on.

Lovino certainly wasn't afraid. No, he got a shiver from the cold. Those idiots needed to shut the door….

Feliciano squealed again, latching back onto Lovino's arm. "He's my brother! Can you believe it, Heilrich? He's Lovino!"

"Wh-what?"

Suddenly, realization smacked Lovino in the face. The kid… was the spitting image of….

Lovino threw a finger at the boy, making him blink in surprise. "YOU! WHY DO YOU LOOK LIKE THAT STUPID POTATO LOVING JERK LUDWIG BEILSCHMIT?"

"Y-you know _mein vetter_?"

Feliciano quickly wrapped his arms around Lovino in an attempt to hold him back from tackling the Ludwig-clone. "No, _Fratello_! No killing people you just met!"

"HE'S LUDWIG'S _CLONE_!"

"Hug therapyyyyyy!"

"G-get away from me, you weirdo!"

"What is going _on _here?"

The three boys paused their hugging, attempted-strangling, and glaring long enough to see a dark haired man walk into view. Feliciano completely forgot about holding back his brother to slam into Roderich Edelstein with a hug. "Uncle Roddy!" he burst.

Roderich easily peeled the boy off, sighing out a "I am not your uncle, but it is nice to see you as well, Feliciano."

Lovino pursed his lips at the intrusion, peeved about not being able to mutilate Ludwig's evil cousin/clone. Roderich's no-nonsense expression didn't waver in the least. "Who might you be, young man?"

"Who are _you_, Prissy Pants?" he shot back, blood boiling at having been called on with so much disdain.

Roderich's eyebrows shot up. "Excuse me, young man?"

Feliciano groaned and resumed his hugging. "Come on, _Fratello_, let the hug therapy work!"

"WOULD YOU GET OFF OF ME?"

Roderich blinked. Heilrich grimly nodded. "Yes, _Vati_, there are _two _of them now."

But his father paid no mind, staring at Lovino in sheer shock. In a hushed whisper, the pianist asked, "Lovino? L-Lovino, Antonio's son? Wh-what are you doing here?"

"For my grandpa's funeral, what else?" Lovino said with the roll of his eyes. Who cares if he was acting rude- it practically _nighttime _outside. He was fed up with crying, annoying Italians and seeing his archenemy's freaking _twin _had crossed the line. His patience had flown out the window, off into the wild blue yonder, somewhere far, _far _away.

Roderich shook his head incredulously. He cleared his throat and adjusted his glasses before sticking his hand out. "I doubt you remember me, but I'm Roderich Edelstein."

Lovino slightly narrowed his eyes in thought as he tried to recall his snooty face into memory. However, he only shrugged, shaking his hand after a moment of hesitation. Neither apologized for their former behavior. Feliciano positively beamed at the exchange. "Yes!" he cheered, punching a skinny arm up in the air. "I _knew _my hug therapy would work!"

"Would you _shut up _about your stupid hug therapy?"

Heilrich darkened his glare. "Don't talk to Feliciano like that!"

"YOU SHUT UP TOO, PIPSQUEAK!"

Heilrich looked equally ready to jump Lovino, but Roderich's hand on his shoulder prevented him from doing so. In order to quell the brewing fight, Roderich asked, "Where is Antonio? I take it you came with him?"

Lovino pointed his thumb back behind. "He's by the door with Aria and- wait a minute, what?" The auburn-haired boy's jaw dropped. No, his eyes were not deceiving him. There stood his idiot of a father, talking to Aria and completely ignoring Marco's dangerous scowl. "That _idiot_!"

Ignoring Feliciano and the Edelsteins, Lovino stalked over to his father, positively beaming at his ex-wife and her fiance. "…really grown up, hasn't he!" Antonio was saying, completely chipper, like the past ten years hadn't happened. "He sat with you guys, didn't he? I- _Hola_, Lovino!"

Aria visibly relaxed when she saw that Lovino had come alone. Seeing her so chipper to keep her son in the dark just a little longer didn't help his growing irritation a bit. He bit back the barbed comment in his mouth and addressed his father with a nod. "Let's hurry and go. I'm starving."

"No, _Fratello_, I told you, you have to spend the night with me!" Feliciano's voice chirped a few feet away. Lovino couldn't see him for the taller people in front of him, but he just _knew_ Feliciano was about to tackle into him again. So when the bright Italian suddenly came into view, Lovino jumped away, making him slam into Antonio. Both stumbled in surprise, stunned to see a completely new person before them. Feliciano jumped back and started a rapid apology, but quickly fell silent.

Lovino saw Aria stiffen, but she didn't say a word.

Antonio was at a loss for words. For the first that entire night, the same could be said for Feliciano. No one seemed willing to prod their introductions, so Lovino ever so nicely said, "That's our dad, Antonio. Dad, meet Feliciano. You'll wish you never met after he opens his mouth."

Those three simple sentences started another tear-fest. However, contrary to everything he had seen thus far, Feliciano wasn't the first to start crying. Antonio pushed a smile on his face, pulling Feliciano close. He opened his mouth to say something, _anything_, but nothing came out. Not even rambling Spanish, as Antonio was prone to do in situations like this.

But there really had never been a situation like this before, had there? Roderich, Heilrich, and lovely brunette woman Lovino assumed to be Mrs. Edelstein silently arrived at the scene, a weary smile on Roderich's face. The rest of the funeral home, even though Lovino could practically see their curious stares bore into his back, thankfully let them be, milling about their way as before. The only variation was that their stories of Roma had instantly switched over into gossip about the father and son.

Aria, of course, was the person to break them apart. "It's getting late, and you need to get in bed for church tomorrow, Feli."

Lovino caught his tired frown, but when he turned to Aria and Marco, he donned a smile. "Okay," he sniffled, wiping at his eyes.

Déjà vu washed over Lovino when Antonio looked up at Aria with well-masked annoyance. "How about we go out to eat someplace first?" he asked, not bothering to be suave in wiping his own tears.

Feliciano's face lit up when he turned to Aria, slightly bouncing in anticipation. Aria looked down at him, to Antonio and Lovino, then back to Feliciano. "…I suppose. But you're paying, Antonio."

More déjà vu when Antonio merely smiled. "Sure! How about we get some ice cream, kids?"

"Yes! I _love gelato!_"

And that was where Lovino's night began spiraling downward.

**Translations:**

**Italian-**

_**Fratello- Brother**_

_**Nonno- Grandpa**_

_**Mamma- Mom**_

_**Il mio bambino- My baby!**_

_**Gelato- ice cream**_

**Greek-**

_**Eísai anypóforos- You're insufferable.**_

**German-**

_**Mein vetter- my cousin**_

**Spanish-**

_**Hola- hello**_


	13. Chapter 13

**I said I'd make this chapter with more Feliciano, but plot bunnies invaded my mind, and I love a good backstory to my characters, so….**

**Here we go.**

**I love the Nordics. They make me insanely happy with their unconventional family ways. Almost reminds me of **_**my **_**crazy family….**

**By the way, this most certainly is not a filler chapter. *nervously laughs***

**Chapter 13-**

It was about two in the morning when Tino felt the warm, sticky liquid fall on his face. His first instinct was to wipe it off with an expression of absolute disgust, but with Berwald's huge arm across his torso, the sleeping blonde immoveable, he merely shuddered and attempted to wiggle free. Next came a quiet _yip_ that had to have come from Hanatamago. Tino narrowed his eyes, trying to see if the strange lump on his chest really was his beloved dog.

"Berwald," he whispered, unable to pry himself free. "I need to take Hanatamago for a walk! Berwald, I can't move!"

The blonde responded with a snorting snore. Tino was involuntarily pulled closer to Berwald's chest. Hanatamago _yipped _louder. "Shh!" Tino quietly burst, eyes darting around the room, expecting their landlord to be a ninja skulking about. It had been a miracle that Tino was able to hide Hanatamago in his carry-on satchel anyway. The landlord hadn't been the least suspicious of his new tenants breaking the rules by bringing in an animal- or _had _he?

"Berwald!" Tino tried a little louder. "Please, Berwald, wake up!"

Another slobbery lick coated his face. "Ugh, Hanatamago, no! Stop- ugh!"

Somehow, with much difficulty, Tino finally peeled his brother's arm off of him. He had always despised how clingy Berwald was when asleep. His brothers shared the same peeve, having the same done to them multiple times. But they weren't almost always stuck with Berwald. No, Abel had decided as the oldest that he and Berwald needed to look after the younger "kids", which meant Emil and Tino would _always _sleep with one of them. Since Abel usually claimed the largest bed possible for him, Emil and Nikolaus could both fit and thus had the awful luck of staying with their "wonderful" big brother, while Tino absolutely had to be with Berwald, because even though he was seventeen, he still had to be treated as a child who needed as much "parental" protection as possible.

As Tino quietly packed Hanatamago and his leash into his satchel, he wondered how things would have been if they hadn't gone out that night.

That night seven years ago. The night their parents were murdered.

Abel had decided to treat everyone to dinner to celebrate the nineteen-year-old's getting a job. Their parents had decided to make it someplace nice to celebrate that and how Berwald was going to graduate that very next week. They ended up paying, of course- even they wanted to hurry and get Abel with his booming laugh and crude sense of humor out of the house. That night, things were going as was usual- Abel and Nikolaus were caught up in a petty argument that Abel started, Emil was busy scribbling on his kid's menu picture, and Tino was chattering away cheerfully to Berwald, smiling the way only Berwald could smile.

Everything was seemingly perfect for their family.

But after their perfect dinner, not two steps from the bistro, they were met with a greasy man with a gun.

It was a normal New York City occurrence. People got mugged everyday in the Big Apple. People died all the time- on the streets, in alleyways, in skyscrapers, in hotels. Death was as prominent as business in the city.

Tino remembered walking hand-in-hand with little Emil, seven-years-old. The youngest siblings were talking about the picture he had colored, almost successfully keeping within the lines. Nikolaus was behind them, talking with Berwald about an end-of-school project he needed help on once they got back home.

Abel was with his parents, still laughing and full of vibrancy.

He remembered Abel's laugh being cut short. He remembered the sound of the gun shot, his mother's scream, Berwald and Nikolaus grabbing Tino and Emil, pulling them to safety. He remembered his father's agonized scream and a second gun shot, Abel's fruitless attempt to tackle the mugger away. Tino, trying to claw his way out of Berwald's arms to rush back to his parents, lying on the sidewalk in respective pools of blood; watched as the mugger grabbed his mother's purse and took off running. Abel shaking on his feet, eyes wide and filled with tears at seeing his parents dead at his feet. Abel falling to his knees, sobbing into his palms, shoulders shaking.

Tino wailed, he remembered, when Berwald still wouldn't let him go. The second eldest's breathing hitched and he took off running without direction. Nikolaus stuttered and shakily took off after him, hiding betraying tears and hiccupping sobs into his brother's shoulder.

They ran all the way back home. Berwald left Nikolaus with the kids before running back to the scene to recover Abel.

Tino was more scared than he had ever been. Everything had happened in that one instant- he wasn't even sure he had caught sight of the man who murdered his parents.

Every time he thought of them, he would go numb. No more goodnight kisses, no more family outings, no more walking to school with Dad, no more…. No more house. They would lose it, wouldn't they? Without anyone to take care of them, Tino, Nikolaus, and Emil would go to an orphanage. They would be separated from each other forever.

Tino had sat beside Nikolaus that night, both blondes wide awake and silent throughout the night. Emil had fallen asleep on Nikolaus's lap, and the fifteen-year-old was mechanically combing through his hair, eyes staring at nothing.

Abel and Berwald didn't come home until the next afternoon. With them came several officers from the NYPD. The questions were blurred in Tino's mind. The tears from Nikolaus and Emil didn't click right in his mind.

It was Monday. Why wasn't he on his way to school? Why wasn't Abel laughing and heading off to the first day at his job? Why weren't Berwald and Nikolaus shoving through hectic New York streets to their high school?

Why was everything falling apart so sudden?

Tino quietly shut the door behind him. The hallway was dimly lit and all was silent, save the snoring from his apartment and buzz of someone talking on their phone in Arthur Kirkland's apartment. Their voice was too muffled for Tino to hear what they were talking about. He tiptoed past the doors and down the steps. Ever so softly, he left the building and walked down the sidewalk. When he thought he was far enough away from the complex, he took out Hanatamago and put on his leash.

"Alright," he told the small dog, "hurry and do your business so we can get back inside. It's cold out here."

The street wasn't as dark as Tino had thought. Lampposts lined the sidewalk, bright and illuminating the foggy, chilly November night. Every so often a car would pass, lights dimmed. The drivers would stare at Tino and go on their merry way.

This small town was so peaceful compared to the other places Tino and his brothers had lived.

After that night, Nikolaus had locked himself in his room with stacks upon stacks of home finder magazines and a laptop whose only function was to provide him with maps from Google. When Abel came home from work and Berwald walked Tino and Emil back home, all five would help with the search. Nikolaus refused to go to school until exams, which he aced. Then it was back to looking, always looking.

Abel and Berwald were legal adults, being nineteen and eighteen. The police couldn't do much to them about the legal business. The real argument lied in who had custody over Emil, Tino, and Nikolaus, who were still minors. Abel argued with them for hours. He went to court with them. And finally, Abel and Berwald were allowed custody of their brothers. Tino was sure that the police were simply exhausted with arguing with the adamant man and let him be.

Shortly after hearing the wonderful news that they would be staying together, Nikolaus finally found them a cheap place to stay in Vermont. It was a tiny house- more like a shack- that was nearly falling apart and ratty inside, but it was livable. They stayed there for a year, Nikolaus always on the lookout for a good opportunity to find another home for them.

Abel and Berwald both worked two jobs. Nikolaus also had a part time job at the local convenience store after school. They certainly weren't poor, so to speak, but there had been a significant downgrade from the rich penthouse they had been living in back in New York.

They moved after a year in Vermont. Nikolaus's Christmas present to everyone was news of finding someplace better for almost the same low cost. It was their first apartment complex in Pennsylvania. The farmland that stretched forever and forever grew monotonous for the boys. Next was another small house in Georgia.

Being down South in the sun, they soon discovered, was not very fun when you were pale and used to cool weather. The Vainamoinen's left Georgia almost as soon as they arrived, heading up north to Asheville, North Carolina. Being back in a city, although it was nothing compared to New York, was more comforting than anything. Even if they did live outside the city amongst a clustered group of deteriorating houses.

Once Abel finally blew up at having rain dripping on him throughout the house, they moved to their current location: Virginia. So far, Tino liked the place. They had only been there for a day, but he liked the quiet and peace much more than noisy cows and racing streets. These mountains cast a shadow that filled the valleys below with solace and peace of mind. Tino wouldn't have minded to stay there forever.

Hanatamago waddled up to him and plopped down at his feet, staring expectantly up at his master. Tino smiled and patted the dog's head. "Ready to head back, Hanatamago? Wow, we've sure walked a long way, haven't we," Tino realized with a start.

He slightly frowned, turning around. He couldn't even see the complex any more. Tino hoped he hadn't just gotten himself lost in a new town at two in the morning. Abel would not be happy to wake up and count only three brothers instead of the usual four. He would then commence to tear through the area, accusing anyone and everyone for kidnapping him, because Abel was stupid and paranoid like that.

Tino sighed. "This is just wonderful. Well, at least everything is quie-"

"COME ON, LUDWIG, IT'S DDR! NOTHING- besides me- IS AWESOMER THAN DDR!"

"IT'S TWO A.M., _VATI! _GO TO SLEEP!"

Tino's eyes widened at the house across from him. That unearthly roar… it sounded vaguely _human_. Maybe… maybe he was wrong about the mountain town being completely peaceful. Maybe they had Big Foot roaming around, playing DDR.

When… _strange_ sounds erupted from the house, Tino spun on his heel and picked up Hanatamago. "…_Mennään takaisin sisälle._"

((((()))))

"Lovino… Lovino, calm down, I can't understand…- are you speaking Spanish or something?"

Lars Johannes rolled his eyes and took another drag. He exhaled slowly, smoke billowing out in front of him. Alice frowned distractedly in his direction, mouthing, "Take that outside."

"Kid staying up there?" Lars rumbled hopefully.

Alice shook her head mutely, still trying to sort through the rapid shouts she was getting from the Italian. She was sure he was reverting to Spanish every few words, but she did pick out "Marco", "Brother", "Gonna kill them all", and something about an itchy sweater. She silently chuckled at his outburst.

"Mmm," Lars grunted in disapproval. He had really been hoping those annoying Spanish-Italian-whatever nut jobs would be leaving. No one believed Lars when he swore the world's problems would be solved without the Carriedo's running their mouths so darn fast, but he knew he was right. "I'm going to bed. It's almost three."

His sister nodded, turning off the TV. "Okay, well, can you tell me in the morning? It's super late, Lovi."

"_But I'm telling you, this can't wait until-_"

"Oh, whoops, there goes the connection!" she chirped before hanging up.

Maybe it was a little mean to cut him off like that, but Alice was tired too- so tired that she almost heard a quiet barking outside in the hall. It must have been her imagination.

She smiled and shook her head at her phone. "_Goede nacht,_ Lovi."

As she turned to get ready for bed herself, she mused to herself about how awkward that boy could be. His emotions were all scrambled- he yelled and acted angry when he was happy, and when he was worried or anxious, he'd stutter on and on to her about one thing or another, never saying exactly what it was that was bothering him. Alice assumed that her late night call had been one of those very moments. He was probably worried about spending the night with his family, and nothing more.

There couldn't _be _anything more, could there?

As doubt wriggled itself into her mind, she found herself frowning once more. What if there had been reason for him calling and rambling? What if something terrible was going on, and she had just hung up on him?

She held her phone out, poised to call.

But then again, Lovino was odd, and it could be absolutely nothing at all.

Alice sighed and stuck her phone in her purse on her nightstand. She got in bed and pulled the covers up to her chin, letting peaceful sleep come over her.

Lovino could tell her tomorrow when he and Antonio came back.

((((()))))

Ludwig was amazed someone hadn't called the police on them yet.

Gilbert, upon finding one could purchase DDR for their Playstation 2, had been playing said game since four o'clock, _yesterday afternoon_.

Actually, Ludwig was more amazed he hadn't collapsed yet. Ludwig and his three dogs sat in the floor in front of the couch (he'd rather be in the floor with his dogs than tantalize them by sitting where they could not), watching Gilbert since sleep was proving to be impossible to find. But the blonde's eyes were beginning to droop despite Gilbert's crowing every time he got the best score on one song before switching to the next.

The whole ordeal would scar Ludwig for life; of that he was certain.

Rose wheezed out a sigh and dropped her head on her lap. Ludwig absently scratched behind her ears, the way she liked. All three of his dogs were starting to get old, the poor things. Ludwig had grown up with his German Shepherds- losing them now would tear him apart. Brooklyn didn't hop around like he used to on their walks. Instead, he sluggishly tottered along, struggling to keep up with Ludwig's pace. Astro was the same- however, he hadn't been up to walks for quite a while now. He rarely got up from his massive pile of blankets, unless it was pile around Ludwig and sleep time.

Much like now.

His precious German Shepherds surrounded the giant blonde, all curling up to sleep, somehow able to ignore Gilbert. These dogs were ten years old. How long was the lifespan of a German Shepherd anyway? Ludwig frowned at the mere thought. His dogs were the most loyal friends he had ever had- and that certainly meant a lot to him, seeing as how he could count his friends on one hand.

Sure, he was a football player and knew all sorts of people. But he didn't revel in the popularity being Defense brought. No, he left all of that up to Alfred Kirkland, always eager to "make new friends" and please everyone. Ludwig… not many people liked him. They found him intimidating- no surprise there, seeing as how he was a giant six-two at only fourteen-years-old. He towered even over Gilbert, who finally looked to be slowing down. He was beginning to miss steps more and more often.

"Are you ready for bed yet, _Vati_?" Ludwig asked once again, sluggishly realizing he really was half-asleep already.

Gilbert sighed and reluctantly turned off the game. He spun on his heel, cocking a pale eyebrow at the sight before him. Shaking his head with a chuckle, Gilbert reached down his hand. "I'd pick you up and take you to bed," he said, hoisting Ludwig to his feet, "but I'm afraid my awesome back would protest."

"Very funny, _Vati_."

The albino also smiled down at the dogs, kneeling down to pet them each in turn. "You lazy bums staying here tonight?" he asked kindly. Ludwig knew his father only spoke like to his pets. He also knew how these dogs would fight tooth and nail for their masters and their family, no matter how old and weak they got. They would fight to the bitter end.

_They have that awesome Prussian spirit, _Gilbert had told Ludwig. _They'll pick their fights and win 'em all. You don't see loyalty like that in _anyone _nowadays._

Loyalty… being faithful, no matter what. Even when the one you loved had chosen someone else, someone as close as a brother, instead of you.

Ludwig didn't get it, the way his father still looked at pictures of Elizabeta in that longing way. He loved Helda more than anything, Ludwig knew. But still…. It was like Gilbert couldn't shake her from his mind. Ludwig had also thought Elizabeta to be beautiful. Everyone always thought that.

But he knew Gilbert loved her and missed her in a completely different way. It was… it was something similar to how Ludwig felt when he thought of his dogs passing away after ten long years. He'd miss them everyday, remember the days they wrestled and sat together and defended one another. It was crazy to say it, but these dogs were his best friends.

Much like Elizabeta had been Gilbert's best friend.

Ludwig had heard every story there was to be told about Elizabeta and Gilbert, the amazing soccer duo who did everything together. They defended one another when one of them had neglected to write a report because of soccer and helped each other find an excuse to escape Francis when he felt the need to describe in detail about the things he… _discovered_. On a nightly basis.

That was main reason Ludwig refused to learn French.

"Hey, don't fall asleep on me now, big guy."

Ludwig snapped back to reality at his father's warning. "'Cause you know, I wasn't kidding about my awesome back. It'd really get aggravated at me if I had to drag you to bed."

The blonde offered him a small apologetic smile. "Sorry, _Vati_."

Gilbert smirked and clapped him on the shoulder. "_Guten nacht, _Luddy."

"_Guten nacht, Vati_."

Ludwig had almost expected to fall asleep the second his head hit the pillow, but although he was exhausted, sleep wouldn't come. His mind fluttered back to his dogs, getting old in their age and slower each day.

What _would _he do when they left? Where was he going to find someone as loyal and loving as his dogs? Who was supposed to stick with him through thick and thin, no matter what?

Then, suddenly, his phone rang.

He didn't recognize the number, but answered anyway. It was always strange to get such late night calls, but Ludwig figured he could massacre anyone who had the guts to pull something on him.

"_Hallo_?"

"Hi there, Heilrich's cousin! I'm Feliciano, and Heilrich really wanted to know why my brother hates you, so I'm calling on his behalf!"

…_Was zum Teufel?_

**Translations:**

**German-**

_**Vati- Dad**_

_**Guten nacht- goodnight**_

_**Hallo- hello**_

_**Was zum Teufel?- What the heck?**_

**Finnish-**

_**Mennään takaisin sisälle- Let's go back inside**_

**Dutch-**

_**Goede nacht- Goodnight**_


	14. Chapter 14

**Kyo: I'm glad you like it so far! Haha, don't worry, I'm updating as fast as I can.**

**I've been putting this chapter off for as long as possible. I personally hate this chapter, but it had to be written. Next should come relatively fast, considering it's a happy chapter.**

**If you guys don't hate me for what I did to Lili, you're certainly going to hate me now. *sigh* Time to go hide in the nuke-proof bunker…. But I promise. This story DOES have a happy end. For everyone. Even Lili. Also, this is the last major tragedy. Everyone else gets off (relatively) scot-free for now.**

**If anyone guesses Lovi's ring tone, you get free internet cookies.**

**I also apologize for OOC Lovino.**

**Chapter 14-**

If one were to peek into Feliciano's mind, one would see a swirl of smiles and brightness with as much intensity as one would could possibly take. The boy was a bubbling mass of inexplicable happiness. Few things could deter him from his leaving his joyful exposition to adopt a darker one. Even fewer could wipe the smile off completely.

But Heilrich knew that deep inside, buried by the cheerfulness and smiling, was a kid who was constantly searching for answers.

He had asked Heilrich everything.

Mamma _said Dad and Lovino were bad people. But why does _Nonno _tell me she just misses them?_

_Do you really think Dad is like Marco, like _Mamma _says? Because _Nonno _told me that Dad was always smiling. Marco never smiles unless _Mamma _is looking at him._

_Do you think _Mamma _will notice if I wear these sweaters until they go away?_

There. Right there.

Heilrich frowned across the table at Feliciano, stuck between his brother and father, laughing with such a vibrancy Heilrich hadn't seen in a long time. He didn't even notice Heilrich was looking at him, jumping into a round of questions for his father.

"You said you worked on a farm- is it fun?"

_Do you always eat an extra tomato on your sandwiches, _Fratello_?_

_Don't you think we'll have fun at my house later, _Fratello_?_

_Do you think that things will get better if I stop annoying Marco, Heilrich?_

The frown deepened. Still, bright Feliciano was completely unaware.

Who knew? Maybe he was aware, but decided not to acknowledge his friend's sour mood in favor of staying in his happy world a little longer with his family. There were a lot of things about Feliciano Heilrich learned everyday.

He first felt the initial shock that accompanies Feliciano in first grade, when Feliciano assured him with confidence that he _was not a girl._ Heilrich's face had been blood red for the rest of the day. It took weeks before Heilrich could talk to him again without shame reddening his cheeks.

Besides that, Heilrich had also learned over the years the odd quirks Feliciano had: he had an addiction to pasta and loved the feel of the Armani suits his grandfather had always wore to Harvard. Feliciano honestly _had _to have a night light on in his room, because, contrary to popular belief, he wasn't afraid of the dark, but afraid of tripping and falling and waking everyone up. Feliciano was as innocent and kind as people came. Heilrich hadn't ever met someone more willing to be that Good Samaritan than Feliciano.

_Heilrich, do you think they're fading away now?_

And this is what he got in return?

Heilrich eventually gave up on trying to get Feliciano's attention and got up to throw away the remains of his ice cream cone. Usually Feliciano stole it and ate it before he could move to toss it away, fussing at him for throwing away the best part of the ice cream.

When he came back, he had Feliciano's attention. The brunette pouted at him, his lip sticking out in that adorable way that almost made Heilrich jump up and retrieve the cone. "Aw… I was going to ask if I could eat that," he whined.

"Want mine?" Antonio offered, licking the remains of vanilla ice cream off his lips. Feliciano's eyes lit up once more. His father laughed and handed it over, elated at making his son happy.

Lovino, on the other hand, was not smiling. He frowned and scowled- but that was apparently how he looked when he was secretly happy. Heilrich was beginning to notice how similar the two brothers could be, despite everything. Aside from looking similar enough, they were both fond of _gelato _and thought Roderich was more than a little stuck up. They both thought Elizabeta was beautiful, and that their father was quite possibly the most ditzy person on earth.

Like with Feliciano, if you looked past the glares and grimaces that made up Lovino Fernandez-Carriedo, one could find a brother who'd do anything to keep Feliciano happy, no matter what.

Heilrich found himself frowning once more when he thought about what Lovino would do if only he knew.

((((()))))

"Pleeeeeease, Uncle Roderich? Pleeeeeease let Heilrich stay over?"

"For the last time," the pianist sighed, "I am not your uncle, Feliciano."

However, he couldn't hide his smile. Roderich grinned and nodded. "If it's alright with Aria, I suppose you could spend the night together."

Feliciano cheered, ramming into Roderich with a hug. He reciprocated it with much more suavity and less crudeness. Heilrich's father was nothing but awkward when it came to showing affection, and everyone knew it. When Feliciano finally peeled himself away, he threw himself at Elizabeta next. "Thank you, Elizabeta!"

She ruffled his hair, smushing him tightly against her. Heilrich caught that moment of hesitation when Feliciano froze up, his eyes growing a fraction wider. But after seeming to remind himself it was just Elizabeta, he went back to normal, his warm smile radiating throughout the room.

They broke apart and Feliciano bounced back over to Antonio and Lovino, whose sides Feliciano hadn't left all night. Antonio wrapped his arms around his shoulders, a goofy grin on his face. "We'll see you before we leave tomorrow, alright, Roderich?"

He nodded. "It was good to see you again, Antonio. Give the others our regards."

"And tell my cousin-in-law that he just lost the game," Elizabeta put in with a triumphant smirk.

The Edelstein's made their leave. Antonio frowned in confusion. "What game is she talking about?"

And Lovino only sighed.

((((()))))

It was eleven o'clock before they finally made it back to Aria's house. Antonio and Feliciano still had yet to shut their mouths. Lovino still looked like he wanted to kick them out of the car. Why couldn't they just shut up? Why wouldn't they just get _tired_, like he was? Lovino was ready to face-plant into a bed and sleep until he finally woke up to normalcy. He had been insanely happy to see Feliciano again- but there was a kind of dread creeping up on him, telling him that perhaps coming and meeting Feliciano wasn't the right thing to do.

They were brothers. Brothers who finally met after ten years of nothing but memories and stories to go by.

What could be so wrong about that?

Why did Lovino feel like everything was about to crumble down on them?

((((()))))

It was late, but Feliciano wasn't about to go to bed now. He had ten years of catching up to do!

Feliciano suppressed the nagging yawn trying its best to burst out and snuggled on the couch between Antonio and Lovino, both of which were gawking at his house. Feliciano literally had to pull them down on the couch, arguing that it didn't matter if the couch was antique- it was made for sitting on. Heilrich had somehow wriggled his way between Lovino and Feliciano, still scowling at the older Italian like he'd just insulted his mother.

But Heilrich gave that expression to everyone, so Feliciano wasn't worried.

Marco retrieved the remote (hidden under the recliner cushion) and had turned the television on to boxing. Marco was a boxer, and Feliciano wondered when he would pop up on TV. After all, when he wasn't with Aria and Feliciano, he was at one of his competitions. Aria wouldn't let Feliciano go see Marco, claiming things were too violent for the boy, and dropped him off at Heilrich's house for a few days.

Aria wasn't present to tell Marco not to let Feliciano watch two guys beat the crap out of each other. The ten-year-old's eyes widened in horror when the first man tumbled to the ground, moaning and clutching his face, his bloody nose smearing the tarp. Antonio instantly put his arm up in front of Feliciano and Heilrich's eyes. "How about you two go play somewhere?" he suggested lightly, clearing annoyed with Marco's choice of entertainment. Lovino looked like he wanted to go with them- but he had to wait on Aria to come back with whatever Roma had left him. Feliciano had no idea what it was. In fact, he hadn't even known Roma had promised Lovino something until Aria mentioned it at the funeral.

Feliciano cast a wary glance to Marco- but he was too absorbed to even realize what Antonio had done. "You guys can come once _Mamma_ gives you your stuff," Feliciano happily chirped. "My bedroom's at the end of the hall upstairs."

Lovino broke his cowed stare at an old Greek-style vase in the corner- _why the heck are they using such a priceless artifact like that as a trash bin?_- and blinked. "Uh, yeah."

He then turned back to the vase, eyes narrowing in deep, critical thought.

Feliciano bit his lip to keep his chuckle in before racing Heilrich upstairs.

The second floor wasn't nearly as fancy as the first floor. These vases were simple pottery given to them from Roma over the years instead of the artifacts Aria had went to a fancy auction for. Feliciano liked these better anyway. The tiled floor was cold on his feet, so Feliciano had to tiptoe up to his room, almost falling over twice. Heilrich had caught him without fail, both laughing.

"Hey, Heilrich, will you do me a favor?"

Feliciano quietly shut his bedroom door behind him. He turned back with an anxious expression that Heilrich knew all too well. The blonde wilted. "…Yeah."

Feliciano turned around and took off his shirt. "Are they going away now?" he asked lightly. "It kinda hurt the other night when I accidentally spilled my juice in the kitchen. Marco got mad because it made the floor all sticky."

Heilrich swallowed hard. "Th-they're starting to fade. Does it… does it still hurt?"

"A bit," Feliciano lied. Actually, his back had been killing him all afternoon from all the hugs. But if he hadn't hugged everyone, they would have thought he was being severely un-Feliciano-like. At least no one had clapped him on the back. _That _would have hurt.

Heilrich frowned. "That one on your shoulder is big. Where did that come from?"

Feliciano thought a moment, and the mere thought that Feliciano had lost track scared Heilrich. It was steadily getting worse. _Wait until Christmas, wait until Christmas…_, the blonde repeated in his head.

The Italian snapped his fingers, remembering. "I'm pretty sure that was when I put too much parmesan on the pasta. Marco doesn't like parmesan."

_Over cheese?_ Heilrich darkly thought. _You hit him because you don't like his _cheese_?_

((((()))))

"Aha!" Aria sang in triumph, entering the living room with a box in her arms. Marco turned down the TV. She flipped open the flaps and pulled out a sweater. Aria tossed it to Antonio, who caught it, stunned. "I think that's supposed to be Lovino's," she said, digging further through the box. "It's too small for everyone else, but too big for Feli. Hmm…. Ah. This one's yours, Antonio."

He next caught a faded yellow manila envelope, _Antonio_ scrawled on the front of it. The Spaniard carefully opened it and slid its contents out on his lap. Countless pictures spilled out, happy smiles of Roma and Feliciano smiling up at him. The pair were always doing something crazy- like in one, where Feliciano looked about eight, they were in matching capes at Halloween, making silly poses. Another one had Roma teaching Feliciano how to spin pottery. And another one painting. And another….

At the bottom of the pile of photographs was a folded letter. Lovino read over his shoulder when Antonio opened it.

_I hope these make up for neglecting to send anything for a while. Tell Lovino I love him and miss him. He was always such a cute kid. And now that you have this letter, I guess you've already found Feliciano. If you got this letter in the mail from Aria, don't worry, I've already come back to haunt her. :D Is that the right smiley? Feliciano was showing me how to do those. But anyways, I'm glad I got these to you. I never wanted to see you go, because you were honestly the best son-in-law a guy could ever want. I hope you're successful now and both of you are happy and well. Don't be sad over me, or I'll come haunt you next. SMILE! I miss you both, and hopefully one day we'll see each other again._

_Love, Roma Vargas_

Quietly, a small, sad smile on his face, Antonio folded it up and put the letter and photos back in the envelope. "_Muchas gracias,_" he murmured.

Aria silently handed the next gift to Lovino. It was a small box, undecorated yet defined. Whatever was inside of it felt relatively heavy- like something made out of some kind of metal. Now Antonio took his turn looking over his shoulder. Even Aria leaned it for a peak, her curiosity getting the better of her.

Lovino resisted the urge to yell at them to back off and opened the box.

The gold sparkled under the living room chandelier, so brightly polished that Lovino could see his astounded face mirrored up at him. The watch face was immaculate ivory, the ticking hands contrasting ebony against the white. At the bottom of the watch face read _Swiss-Bertulucci_

There was no doubt about it.

This was Roma's watch.

Aria exhaled slowly, lifting up Lovino's hands to take a better look at the watch. She took his wrist and put it on for him. When Lovino looked up, he saw a smile on her face. "Take good care of that," she said softly, like a mother, brushing amber hair the color of Roma's behind his ear. "That watch meant the world to _Nonno_."

"…I will," he promised, holding his wrist out to look at his spotless surface. Roma had had this watch for over ten years, but it looked like it had just came from the store. The effort his grandfather had put into keeping his watch in perfect condition…. It astounded Lovino.

"Can I touch it?"

"No!" Lovino burst, yanking his arm back from Antonio. "You'll smudge it!"

Antonio let out a groan. "No I won't!" he whined, finally sounding more like his annoying self than the sentimental man he'd been just minutes ago.

Regardless, Lovino jumped to his feet. "I'm going to find Feliciano," he hotly explained, eying his father, mentally _daring _him to take another grab at his watch. It was _his _now. All of Roma's honor and glory was _his_.

Lovino wasn't about to let his idiot father do something stupid to it, like drop it or smudge its beautiful face.

He turned up the stairs, taking in the new surroundings. Lovino still couldn't get over how insanely humongous Aria's house was. It wasn't the same one he had known when he was four, because they had all still lived at Heta then, but it certainly had the same class. More antiques and paintings lined the hallway, arrangements of white and red flowers with bright green leaves sitting on every window sill.

Two tiny voices came from the door down the hall.

Lovino followed the voices and-

"He gave you a bruise _that big _over parmesan?"

-and he froze.

"It's not _that _bad," Feliciano half-heartedly argued. "It doesn't even hurt anymore."

Lovino felt the color drain from his face as he burst through the door, startling the two boys. Feliciano's hazel eyes went wide, mirroring his brother's horror-filled amber ones. The boy snapped out of his shock and dove behind Heilrich, yanking on his shirt.

"What… what…," Lovino stuttered, taking a step inside. He froze in this new spot, head slowly shaking back and forth in utter terror. In a choked whisper, he asked, "Were those… _bruises_?"

Feliciano grabbed hold of Heilrich's shoulders, burying his new tears into the blonde's back. Heilrich grimly looked to the floor. That was the only confirmation Lovino needed, as if he hadn't already seen enough from the dark blotchy proof tainting Feliciano's back. Heilrich quietly turned and sat Feliciano on his bed. He walked past Lovino, still immobile, and shut the door.

Feliciano's crying was quiet from weeks of practice. Heilrich was stoic from weeks of knowing what was going on.

But Lovino….

Feliciano's brother slowly walked over to him, forcing his legs to move despite them feeling like they were made of heavy lead. He sat down next to him and pulled him into his chest. "…Who did this to you?" he asked softly with a murderous glare laced through his words. But when Feliciano merely shook his head, Lovino started combing through his hair in gentle silence.

Heilrich didn't want to interrupt their moment, so he quietly sat down in the floor at the foot of the bed. Lovino quietly murmured reassuring, mellifluous Spanish, no doubt the same way Antonio would have done. Heilrich's eyebrows furrowed together. What would Antonio do if Lovino told him? He probably would tell- tell Antonio, Aria, Marco-

He could not let Marco know Feliciano had told on him.

Heilrich had seen situations like this on TV, when he snuck out at night to watch the crime shows Elizabeta loved. One couldn't just come out with something like this with the perpetrator in the room. He'd snap and people would get hurt and sometimes killed! Heilrich refused to let that happen! He absolutely _refused_.

He loved his family and his friends. He loved the time spent together, the laughter they shared, the overall camaraderie they shared when they forgot about the world and simply listened to Roderich play his music.

They would find some other way to make this stop. Heilrich and Feliciano's perfect worlds go back to normal, and they would be able to listen to melodious piano tunes and Italian and Hungarian songs. They could fall asleep on each other's shoulders, smiles on their faces, no worries bearing down on them.

They would go back to being the family that meant the most to them.

Feliciano had stopped crying. Heilrich didn't know when, but the only sounds that could be heard was Antonio's oblivious laughter and muffled stories from below. The blonde looked over his shoulder at the brothers- Feliciano had stopped crying because he had fallen asleep. Lovino met his eyes and nodded down at the covers. Heilrich pulled them back and watched as Lovino lay Feliciano down with the utmost care, like he was handling fine porcelain.

"How long have you known?"

"You can't tell."

Lovino's eyes darkened dangerously. "You expect to stay silent when someone's been _beating _my brother?"

Heilrich quickly shook his head. "No- I mean, you can't tell _yet_. If Marco finds out Feliciano's told us, he'll-"

"MARCO?" Lovino roared. Heilrich slapped his hand over his mouth, pulling him back onto the bed.

"Quiet!" the blonde boy furiously whispered, looking back to the door in fear that Marco would suddenly burst in or something. "Tell Antonio when you two are back home! I'm going to ask _Vati _and _Mutti _if Feliciano can spend Christmas with us. _Then _we'll tell Aria."

Lovino ripped his hand away, but lowered his voice. "It's almost an entire month until Christmas, you idiot! What if Marco hits him before then? Really hurts him?"

The Italian suddenly threw up his hands. "You know what? Forget this. I'm telling Dad and we're taking him back home with us."

"Lovino, you can't- you can't tell! You _can't tell_!"

"Get off of me, kid!"

"_Y yo sólo quiero ser real, y sentir el mundo igual, que los otros, seguir siempre así-"_

Lovino grumbled out a few choice words before yanking out his cell phone. He openly cursed at the name on the caller ID. "Alfred, whatever it is, I don't have time to listen to your crap, so-"

"Hey, hey, hey! Calm down, dude! I just wanted to know if you're coming to Kiku's tutoring thing Monday. Dad said he'd buy everyone coffee, and I gotta know if you're coming or not."

Heilrich could see Lovino mentally counting to himself before he responded. "Yes, Alfred," he replied tightly, "I'll be there with Feliciano, bright and early Monday morning. Are you happy? Now hang up and go to sleep, _tonto_."

"Funny you'd say that, since _you're _up at two in the morning too."

"Shut up!"

Growling, Lovino hung up on him and angrily stuffed his phone back in its rightful place. Although he was still furious, Lovino had lost the will to fight. He tightly sighed. "Fine. I won't tell. I'll leave that up to him. But I'm still taking him back home with us. It's stupid to leave him here where _Marco_-" he openly snarled at the name "-can get to him. Your plan better work, you stupid kid."

Before Lovino escaped back downstairs, probably to spend the rest of his night mentally stabbing Marco repeatedly with a rusty spoon, Lovino brushed away Feliciano's hair and kissed his forehead. "Tell a soul I did that," Lovino said calmly, "and I swear I will rip your mouth right off of your face."

"Threaten me again like that," Heilrich replied just as calmly, "and I'll rip out your tongue and glue it up your nose."

The two coldly regarded each other before turning their separate ways. Once Lovino had gone, his footsteps stomping down the hallway, Heilrich released a weary sigh. "Do you _always _pretend to fall asleep when you want to get out of a conversation, Feliciano?"

The Italian opened his eyes with a troubled frown. He flipped over on his stomach and kicked his legs in the air. "_Fratello _wasn't supposed to find out…. Do really think _Mamma _would let me go home with him and _Papà?_"

Heilrich smiled and nodded.

Feliciano didn't smile back, but at least Heilrich had wiped the frown away. Instead, Feliciano sat up and crossed his legs. He plastered a grin to his face.

"So, this cousin of yours _Fratello _doesn't like…."

**Translations:**

**Italian-**

_**Mamma- Mom**_

_**Nonno- Grandpa**_

_**Fratello- Brother**_

**Spanish-**

_**Muchas gracias- Thank you so much**_

_**Y yo sólo quiero ser real, y sentir el mundo igual, que los otros, seguir siempre así- And I only want to be real, and feel the world as the others, and always follow-**_


	15. Chapter 15

**Kaiserlisk: Wow… Marco and Bulgaria totally **_**was **_**a coincidence. Marco is absolutely going to be Bulgaria now. That is just… too awesome and creepy to pass by. I guess it's time to go research my butt off this week. And I'm really glad you don't think this fic is one of THOSE. XD I like good plots, not crack. Unless it's with bacon! (Inside joke)**

**Well, then. I'm glad those of you who reviewed didn't send me curses and death threats. It's always a good thing to know you're not a Chibirisu (yet). As promised, here's a happy chapter! Sort of! XD**

**Do you know how hard it is to spell "spiraled"? Apparently very, because I took ten minutes fighting my stupid check until my brain finally kicked in. -.-**

**Chapter 15-**

It had been a fun-filled weekend for the Braginski siblings. They had spent most of their time huddled together on the couch under one of Katyusha's warm quilts, watching old black and white movies. Laughter had filled Katyusha's normally empty, quiet house, spreading memories for her to fondly recall once her siblings departed from her once again. The solemn mood that had accompanied Ivan had long gone, a new genuine smile on his face.

Katyusha let a giggle fly when Ivan so very carefully reached over and stole a handful of popcorn from Natalya's bowl. The blonde huffily lifted her bounty out of harm's way, opening a chance for Katyusha to stuff a grab of buttery deliciousness in her mouth.

Natalya, who rarely smiled, hadn't frowned once the entire day. Katyusha and Ivan celebrated this by eating cookie dough ice cream, right from the box, until they were too sick to even look at it. Then they resumed their marathon, further lightening the house with insane laughter.

When Natasha Braginski appeared on Katyusha's doorstep Sunday morning, neither younger sibling wanted to leave. But Katyusha invited their mother inside with a smile.

Natalya forlornly remained in the kitchen, slowly finishing her breakfast. The fried eggs were over-done and the toast was slightly burnt, but she had always loved Katyusha's breakfasts regardless. They reminded her of the times when Katyusha still lived with them. Katyusha had cooked all the time back then to give their mother a break after a long day of washing dishes and clothes, tending to their garden, and other motherly duties.

She wanted to hold on to those memories as long as she could- memories of the times when she and Ivan had an excuse to smile. Now… it seemed like their household was purposely trying to keep them beaten into submission and frowning. Nothing went right. Natalya wasn't allowed to listen to rock music. Not that that stopped her from secretly buying burned CD's off of some kids at school and listening to them at night. But even worse than that was how their father wouldn't let them do anything that would deter them from their studies.

Natalya was the top in her class after Xiao Mei Wang. Even then, the two girls were neck to neck at who got the better GPA. Xiao Mei was just one tenth of a point ahead of her due to the B Natalya had gotten in English. She thought it was completely unfair, that wretched grade. How could someone blame her for knowing Russian better than English when that was all that was spoken at her house?

Ivan was just as good a student as Natalya. He also had some trouble with English grammar, but he was still better than Natalya. He hadn't ever gotten a B in his life. Morozko was crazy about his grades- he was the only son, the boy who had the potential to actually follow through with his occupation plans, unlike Katyusha.

It wasn't fair. Once Katyusha had started failing Psychology- due more to stress over her other college classes in high school than anything- Morozko lost more and more interest in her, instead focusing on making sure Ivan did well.

Morozko hadn't even been there for her graduation. Natalya remembered seeing Katyusha eagerly scanning the stands while she gave her Valedictorian speech, looking for her family. Everyone noticed her visibly wilt when she saw only Natasha and Natalya- Ivan had been kept at home so he could study for his summer classes.

Natalya never wanted to see her siblings' faces so despondent ever again.

"Natalya, I'm taking your suitcase out to the car too," Ivan said, poking his head in the kitchen.

The blonde nodded, averting her eyes from her brother's unhappy face. She hated seeing him sad. Hated hated hated _hated _seeing it. Natalya didn't look up until after Ivan had sighed and stepped outside to load up their things. Moving mechanically, Natalya put her plate and cup into the sink and moved out to the living to join her mother and sister, talking about Katyusha's job. At least Natasha hadn't been completely devastated to learn she had become a measly school councilor instead of the psychiatrist Morozko had always hoped she'd be.

"…Matthew Bonnefoy is the sweetest boy I've ever seen," Katyusha was saying. "He's impossibly polite, and good friends with Ivan, too."

Natasha's dark eyes lit up. "Wonderful! I'm glad things are going well. Ivan has been working so hard on his school work- I was surprised when he told us he wasn't going to play hockey. He seemed so excited when they announced tryouts."

Katyusha's smile crumbled. Natalya inwardly groaned when tears popped up in her eyes. Katyusha always got so overly-emotional about small things like this. But thankfully, she didn't gab about Ivan lying. Instead, she twittered, "O-oh, yes, he was telling me about that."

"I guess he thought school was more important," Natasha figured proudly. She put an arm around Katyusha and Natalya's shoulders. "All of you are such hardworking, intelligent children. I'm proud you put so much effort into being something great."

"_Spasiba_," Katyusha humbly grinned, her near-episode already over.

Ivan come back, face lighting up at the scene before him. "Say goodbye to your _Sestra_," Natasha said, following her own words with a kiss to Katyusha's forehead. "I'll see you soon my dear."

After reluctant goodbye hugs were given, Katyusha followed them to the door, waving after them. "Goodbye, _Mat'_! Be safe! I'll see you at school tomorrow, Ivan!"

He smiled widely and waved back at her before ducking his tall frame into Natasha's small car. It was an amusing spectacle to say the least.

Once they were gone, the grin on Katyusha's face slowly turned downward into a grimace.

So, Morozko was forcing her siblings to lie to their mother, now?

All of those smiles and laughter they'd shared- Katyusha was certain they didn't have moments like that back home. It was probably nothing but obeying Morozko's wishes. They probably had to slave over homework the same way Katyusha had those ten years ago. Neither seemed to be failing- yet. Katyusha had been the best student at her school, _in the district_, before she got in over her head and was overwhelmed. She had to drop Psychology and Physics in exchange for Sociology and Calculus. Morozko had been so ashamed of her. He had practically disowned her.

Katyusha figured it was probably well deserved after all the promises she had made about becoming something great that could pull her family out of debt.

She sighed, turning back to her lonely house.

One day… one day she would make her siblings happy.

((((()))))

"How about we go out for more ice cream?" Antonio brightly proposed. After a morning service spent sitting between his sons- both of them finally with him at long last- nothing could damper his happy demeanor. Antonio was happier than Lovino remembered ever seeing him. He was even happier than he had been ten years ago when Lovino fatefully pointed out the sign for Max's farm. He remembered that moment vividly. After all, Antonio had nearly crushed him to death in the hugs that came out of seemingly no where every five seconds. At least Lovino would be exempt from his happy-hugs this time, seeing as how he and Feliciano launched themselves at each other every chance they could.

Lovino was worried at first, wondering if Feli's back was hurting him, but when he asked him privately after church, he had merely smiled and said, "He's my _Papà_! There's no way he could hurt me!"

Now, still as hyper and ecstatic as ever, Feliciano had turned his loving eyes on Aria and Marco.

Oh, how Lovino tried so hard not to jump the stupid Bulgarian right then and there.

"_Sì_! _Mamma_, Marco, can we go, pleeeeeease?" Feliciano begged, putting on his best puppy-dog eyes at the two. Aria certainly didn't look happy, but with a sigh, she nodded. Ice cream wouldn't be _so _bad, would it? Feliciano threw his arms around her, repeatedly thanking her.

Aria tastelessly looked up at Antonio. "Bring him straight home afterwards."

Feliciano jumped away. "Oh, um, and there's something I forgot to ask you, _Mamma_."

She looked away from Antonio, who had begun frowning at being scowled at every time she acknowledged his existence. "What is it, Feli?"

The ten year old looked down at the dark parking lot. "U-um, can I, uh…. canIgohomewithLoviandDad?"

Antonio and Aria were stunned. Lovino was more than annoyed at how Marco had frowned at the questioned. He crossed his arms to make sure he didn't jump the man and started pounding his face in. Lovino really had to work on that.

Antonio recovered from his initial shock first, joining Feliciano with a puppy dog look of his own. "Ooh, Aria, pleeeeeease?" he pleaded, sounding like an older deeper-voiced Feliciano.

"Are you two ganging up on me?" she lightly burst, still unsure whether she should be spitting out fire or laughing at the absurdity of it all. Because Feliciano loved her. He didn't really want to leave her for Antonio and Lovino. He didn't really want to escape from her like they had ten years ago. He didn't really… he didn't really hate her, did he?

No. No no no. Feliciano was not going to be another Lovino. She would not let him go. She absolutely _refused_.

But before she could say all this aloud, Marco cleared his throat. "Be a good kid, then, alright?"

Aria snapped back at him, her eyes wide. "Wh-what did you say?"

Marco shrugged. "Kid wants to spend more than a day with his dad. I'd give him that. Besides, it's not like he'll ever see them again once he comes back."

Lovino flared up dangerously. Feliciano took hold of his arm, giving him a beseeching look that begged, _This is our chance, please don't blow it._

Mentally shouting ever curse in every language he knew (which was a lot, having Dutch and French neighbors as well as the myriad of multilingual students at his school), Lovino calmed himself down. He swore he'd get his chance to punch Marco in the face one of these days.

Aria cast a hesitant look back at Feliciano, taking aback by the literal pleading in his eyes.

_He lost _Nonno_ and he's still getting used to Marco…. He hasn't heard Roderich play in nearly a month. He looks so darn _pathetic_!_

Lips trembling, Aria slowly, tightly nodded. "One week," she whispered. "I'll call your teacher when I get back home. Antonio, if he's not back home by next Sunday, I'm going to-"

Feliciano cut off her deadly threat with a suffocating hug. "_Grazie, Mamma_! _Grazie grazie grazie! Ti amo così tanto, mamma! Grazie, Marco! Non posso credere che ho intenzione di stare con Papà e Lovino!_"

She looked even more troubled now, frowning deeper at the Italian streaming from his mouth so rapidly. "_S-sì_, Feli. I-I want you to call me everyday. Twice everyday. Any time you start to feel lonely. Don't wander off. Stay with your brother at all times. Do your homework _there_- not when you come back." Feliciano nodded earnestly, practically dragging them all over to their respective vehicles, eager to eat his ice cream and go back home to begin packing. His chest fluttered with excitement- he was going home with _Antonio and Lovino!_

He was going to call Heilrich the instant he got home. Then, he'd tell Elizabeta, and Roderich, and….

Feliciano had to remind himself that there would be no more calling _Nonno_.

The boy swallowed hard, but remained determined to stay happy. Antonio and Lovino- _Papà e Fratello. _The two halves of his family he'd never known.

Nothing could be better than this!

((((()))))

Feliciano and Lovino were fast asleep half an hour into the drive back home. The brothers leaned into each other, both slightly snoring in that adorable way that made Antonio want to pull over his truck just so he could croon. But it would already be two in the morning before they reached home again, so Antonio had no time to waste.

Lovino would not be a pretty sight to behold Monday morning.

…And that got Antonio to thinking. Where was Feliciano supposed to sleep? Antonio could take the couch for a week, he supposed, so he could have his bed. What was Feliciano supposed to do when Lovino was at school and Antonio was at the farm, decorating things with Max's grandkids for Christmas? Feliciano could come with him, he supposed, or stay with Arthur. It wasn't like he was the most famous lawyer in town- thus why he was still stuck in that apartment for ten years.

But most of all, Antonio wondered where the dark bruise on Feliciano's shoulder came from. When the boy had fallen asleep onto Lovino, Antonio had noticed it under his shirt. The poor kid must have fallen down pretty hard to get a spot like that. He would have to buy ice later in case it started to hurt Feliciano.

The hours seemed to fly by, with Antonio singing along to the radio stations that popped up, waking up Lovino several times (though he quickly went back to sleep after a few foreign curses that Antonio mistook for harmless sleepy grumbles).

It hadn't felt like an hour had even passed before Antonio saw the first familiar rise of mountains before him. What felt to be even sooner that, he had finally arrived at Heta.

Right as he turned onto the road heading through town to the apartment complex, his engine died.

For a moment, the Spaniard sat there, mind muddled with exhaustion. He was more tired than he had thought, he realized. Antonio tried to turn the engine on again, but it spluttered once, twice, before going completely dead. It wasn't the battery because the time- three-forty-two a.m.- blinked up at him, shining bright emerald through the dark.

After a moment more of investigation, Antonio finally found the problem: he was out of gas. Antonio frowned, the memory of Lovino nagging him to get gas at the ice cream parlor popping up in his mind. He had completely forgotten. He cast a worried glance to his sons. If he woke up Lovi and explained they had ran out of gas and were now stranded in the early hours of the morning about twenty minutes from the complex, he would _not _be happy. Maybe he'd wake up Feliciano, instead. The ten-year-old wasn't nearly as sour in the morning as his brother, that was for sure. Actually, Antonio was sure _no one _was worse than Lovino when he first woke up.

Another five minutes took him to remember he had a cell phone. He could call Francis to come pick them up!

…But he had to get up early, too, to go to the school.

Gilbert? He lived in town too, didn't he? Besides, Gilbert probably (hopefully) didn't have to wake up in another few hours for anything.

Smiling at this new revelation, Antonio dug out his phone. When he flipped it open, he discovered it too was dead. Antonio was beginning to think he needed to listen to Lovino when he demanded this or that to be taken care of.

Finally, one last epiphany popped into Antonio's mind.

where was Lovino's phone?

((((()))))

Tino was beginning to think he'd be spending a lot of his time roaming through the night, walking Hanatamago. The blonde supposed it was nice that his dog waited for the right moment when no one was awake to become suspicious of them, but the lack of sleep was really starting to catch up to Tino during the day. It had been well into the afternoon before Tino woke up yesterday morning (since it was almost four o'clock, Tino supposed he'd acknowledge it rightfully as Monday). Berwald had been worried Tino was sick, and had supposed hovered about in their room all morning.

However, more disheartening than his crazy sleeping hours, was how the November nights were steadily getting colder as it approached the beginning of December. Tino had dressed warmly in a pale blue and white parka and put on his boots. However, the icy cold still bit at him when the mountain breeze passed through, wracking his lithe frame with shivers. The cold had never really bothered Tino, but when Hanatamago started to shiver, he knew enough was enough.

Tino picked the dog up and zipped him up in his parka. "Is that warmer?" he asked. His soft voice seemed much too loud on the silent street. Said street also seemed much lonlier without the ruckus from the other night.

The blonde frowned out at the darkened yards and the shadows that hadn't been quenched from the street lamps' lights. They too seemed to grow larger and darker with each passing second.

What was lurking in those shadows, waiting to pounce on the defenseless teenager? Not that he really was defenseless- Tino could bring Abel and Berwald, _at the same time_, to the floor when he really tried. After years of wrestling with his brothers, Tino wasn't nearly as weak as he looked.

Despite knowing he could certainly take care of himself should anything happen, Tino still couldn't help but jump when a car engine suddenly chugged to a stop. He swirled around, clutching Hanatamago close to his chest. The brown haired man in the truck that had died frowned, obviously worried and annoyed at the situation he was faced with. Tino noticed two younger boys in the seat beside him, both asleep. The older looked about Emil's age while the younger looked about ten or eleven.

Tino watched with a growing guilt as the man checked his phone, only to find it dead as well. He really wanted to help- but how could he?

He had his phone.

But his mind immediately thought back to the multiple times Abel had sat Tino and Emil down to teach them the Eleventh Commandment: THOU SHALT NOT SPEAK TO STRANGERS.

There was actually a twelfth that stated all of Abel's brothers must rub his feet and cook for him upon his immediate arrival from work, but no one obeyed this so-called sacred commandment.

Tino's stupid kindness got the best of him. He walked to the truck and rapped on the window, taking the man inside by inside. When he rolled the window down, Tino put on a smile. "Do you need a phone to call someone for your truck?"

A smile brightened his face as well. "Yeah! Thanks, _chico_. My son wouldn't be happy to have to walk home after finally coming back."

_Finally coming back…. _Chico_…?_

_Beside you lives Antonio Fernandez-Carriedo and his son Lovino, but they're currently away for Lovino's grandfather's funeral._

Could this be…?

"Um, sir, are you by any chance Antonio Fernandez-Carriedo?" Tino asked, handing him his phone.

The brunette blinked. "Um, yeah. Nice to meet you, um…."

"Tino Vainamoinen," he supplied. "My brothers and I moved in while you were away. Arthur said you're our neighbor."

Antonio's smile widened. "We have new neighbors? This is great! Lovi'll be so happy to have someone besides Alfred and Alice to talk to! He's my son, by the way. Feliciano's my son, too. Oh! Gilbert, hey, sorry for calling at a weird hour, but…."

As he started off talking this Gilbert person, Tino peered through at the boys. The younger stirred at his father's voice, hazel eyes blinking into consciousness. He yawned and rubbed his eyes, looking out before him in momentary confusion, as if forgetting where he was exactly. The look didn't leave his face as he shook his brother awake.

"Mmm, dun wanna go 'a school, _Papá. _Why're you wa… wakin' me up s' early…?"

"_Fratello,_" Feliciano whispered anxiously, "where are we?"

Lovino blinked himself before peering out the windshield. "…In town," he answered slowly. "Oy, _Papá_, why did you stop in…."

Antonio nervously laughed, hanging up with Gilbert. He handed Tino's phone back to him with a quick thanks. "W-well, I, uh, sort of ran out of gas, and…."

"I TOLD YOU FILL UP THE TRUCK BEFORE WE LEFT MASSECHUSETTS! YOU _IDIOTA!_"

Tino flinched back at the young man's shout. He started to think coming to help them wasn't such a good idea after all, if they were really his neighbors. But Feliciano waved happily at him, obviously not finding it odd at all that a random guy was standing outside his truck in the middle of the night with a dog zipped up in his snuggly parka.

A little while into Lovino's yelling, Feliciano had wrapped his arms around him, chanting something or another about "hug therapy".

The sudden skid of car brakes shook the four back to reality.

"TINO!" a loud voice burst in relief.

Before Tino could even turn to see his brothers, Abel slammed into him, lifting him off his feet in a hug. "I was so freaking _worried_, kid! What the heck were you doing, walking around at four in the morning?"

"C-can't… breathe…! Abel!"

The blonde released his brother, allowing him to gulp in air. Tino checked on Hanatamago, also gasping for breath. "I had to walk the dog," he sheepishly admitted.

"Why didn't you wake us up and tell us or something? You could have left a note!"

"You were too fast asleep," he answered.

"I was not!"

"You were."

A third car came to a stop. A ragged albino stumbled out, sluggishly walking over to the growing crowd. He narrowed his crimson eyes at Antonio, throwing an indignant thumb back at the blonde family. "_Warum hast du mich, wenn Sie das blasse Quintett holen Sie hatten_?"

Antonio slightly gaped. "Uh, _amigo_, you're speaking German."

"_Du bist zu sprechen Jiddisch!_" Gilbert sluggishly replied. He let out a mighty yawn that interrupted Abel's good-older-brother speech. With a groan, Gilbert smacked his forehead into the red truck's door. "Ugh, _ich muss aufhören so viel _DDR .…"

In all seriousness, Antonio asked, "Are you drunk or are you still asleep?"

Gilbert thought a moment, furrowing his eyebrows in deep concentration. "Uh… both…? Maybe?" he finally said in English, albeit with his harsh German accent. Gilbert turned and looked over the Vainamoinen's. "Who're you guys?"

"I'm Tino Vainamoinen, and these are-"

"BACK TO THE CAR!" Abel rudely interrupted, pushing his brothers back. "Have you completely forsaken my eleventh commandment?"

"They're our neighbors, Abel…."

Things went a little more smoother after Abel drove back home. Gilbert seemed considerably more conscious and helped load the Carriedo's and Feliciano's bags up in his car. He also promised to bring some gas later for their truck.

It wasn't until they had reached the complex that Gilbert noticed there were _three _people in his car as apposed to Antonio and Lovino. He slammed on the breaks, turning around in utter shock. "Who the heck are you, kid?"

"I'm Feliciano!" he chipperly replied with a smile so blinding Gilbert actually had to advert his eyes. The Albino was agape without a response. Feliciano? _The _Feliciano?

Antonio's enthusiastic nod was all the proof Gilbert needed. "He decided to come stay with us for a week! Isn't that great, Gilbert?"

"It'd be even greater if, you know, _we ever got home_," Lovino muttered from the backseat of the Volkswagon. He was promptly ignored.

Gilbert incredulously shook his head. "Gosh, kiddo. Last time I saw you, you were in diapers and crying alongside my nephew."

"Nephew?" Feliciano perked up. "You mean Heilrich? You're Roderich's cousin? Ludwig's dad?"

"Yes, yes, and yes," Gilbert confirmed.

"_Podemos ir a casa?_" Lovino tried again.

"Right, right," Gilbert conceded, turning in to the parking lot. "You guys have a good night. See you later, kiddies, Antonio."

As the German left to go back to his own home, Antonio waved and called after him, "_Gracias_, Gilbert!" He turned back to the boys with a blinding smile. "We're finally home!"

**Translations:**

**Russian-**

_**Sestra- sister**_

_**Mat'- Mother**_

**Italian-**

_**Grazie, Mamma**_**! **_**Grazie grazie grazie! Ti amo così tanto, mamma! Grazie, Marco! Non posso credere che ho intenzione di stare con papà e Lovino!- Thank you, Mom! Thank you thank you thank you! I love you so much, Mom! Thank you, Marco! I can't believe I'm going to stay with Dad and Lovino!**_

_**Sì- Yes**_

_**Papà e Fratello- Father and Brother**_

**Spanish-**

_**Papá- Dad**_

_**Amigo- friend**_

_**Podemos ir a casa?- Can we go to home?**_

_**Gracias- thank you**_

**German-**

_**Warum hast du mich, wenn Sie das blasse Quintett holen Sie hatten?- Why did you call me if you had the pale quintet to pick you up?**_

_**Du bist zu sprechen Jiddisch!- You're speaking Yiddish!**_

_**Ugh, ich muss aufhören so viel DDR .…- Ugh, I need to stop playing so much DDR….**_


	16. Chapter 16

**Cookies to whoever guesses who the cashier is.**

**Warning: this chapter contains many flashbacks and angst the flavor of chapters 2-4. And ghost stories, because I'm too impatient for Halloween to get here to wait for the Halloween chapter. Even though it's November in the story.**

**So yes, this is sort of a filler chapter. You have my ADD to thank for that. Also, I'm sorry for the lateness of this chapter. My stomach has been absolutely killing me the past few days, and I'm seriously starting to think my insides may just explode on me. So if I don't update in a week, you can safely assume I'm suffering from appendicitis or something. Bleh. At least Tylenol is starting to help a bit.**

**Chapter 16-**

Kiku was honestly astounded at the seven people present for his tutoring, despite the snow collecting outside. He had almost been afraid the weather would deter them from coming since school was on a two-hour delay schedule again, but Alfred had been true to his word.

The brunette had dragged in Matthew Bonnefoy, Lovino Carriedo (who came with his father and younger brother, all three of them sluggish), and Alice Johannes. Already present at the coffee shop was Katyusha Braginski, who told them she visited every morning for some coffee to start her day.

Shortly after their introductions had five blondes walked in, claiming to have come to explore before the youngest boys' first day of school.

Feliciano, Lovino's brother, perked up upon seeing them. "You're Mr. Vainamoinen!" he chirped, pointing to Tino.

Alice's lips curled up. She lunged for the ten-year-old's cheeks. "You are so _cute_!" The Dutch sophomore, in all truth, had only come _because _of Feliciano. It was sheer luck that she had entered the hallway right as the Carriedo's readied to leave with Alfred and Matthew. She had fallen in love at first sight with his dimpled cheeks, hugging him every two seconds. The Italian didn't mind in the least, returning each and every hug. Everyone had soon learned Feliciano was an extremely touchy-feely sort of individual.

Kiku had to make sure he never met Yong Soo. The poor boy's mind would be corrupted instantly. Upon seeing the blondes as friends, he invited them over to their little session, supervised by Ms. Braginski (who also knew the Vainamoinen's from when Emil and Tino had been signed up at the high school) and Antonio after Yao and Arthur had made them each swear to be on their best behavior. However, this was mostly directed at Alfred, and Yao had just wanted to sound like a good parent, even though he knew Kiku acted older then him sometimes.

It was harder than Kiku had expected to keep Alfred, the main reason he was doing this whole tutoring business, focused and on-task. It was ever harder, however, to keep everyone from marveling over Feliciano. However, even Kiku couldn't completely quell his curiosity over Lovino's younger brother. According to everyone present, the young Italian had seemingly popped out of nowhere, all smiles and hugs. Honestly, half of them hadn't known Feliciano to even exist. Alfred and Matthew had long forgotten about Aria and Feliciano. Alice had never heard of Lovino's long-lost brother, and was obviously peeved about being left out of this loop until just two days ago.

Tino and his brothers slowly had the situation explained with bits and pieces of conversation here and there. Kiku had simply given up on his tutoring for the first day and allowed everyone to focus on Feliciano.

From what the new guys and the Asian deduced, Aria was a heartless (censored) who had stolen Feliciano away from Antonio and Lovino ten years ago. Feliciano vehemently denied this, reiterating repeatedly that Aria was a wonderful person. She had simply been stressed, or something. Lovino argued that "stressed" wouldn't have let to Aria yelling every five seconds at Antonio for stupid things.

"She yelled at him for letting Alfred stay over when Arthur was in the freaking hospital!" Lovino burst. Feliciano shied back in his seat. Alfred himself suddenly went silent, fingers clenching the hem of his shirt. He didn't remember much about the incident ten years ago, but he did remember enough. Alfred… _vividly _remembered the sorry state Arthur had been in. It had taken weeks for Alfred to quell his fear for cars, and even longer for him to be able to look his father in the eye again without guilt and apprehension gnawing at him. He remembered hating to look at Arthur with that bulky cast. He had refused to sign it, despite how Arthur and Francis both egged him on.

There was something else he remembered, too. It was choppy in his mind, and Alfred felt it slip away every time he tried to conjure it up.

Someone had been there at the wreck. Someone… someone that Alfred hadn't been able to understand. He now realized they must have been speaking another language. Thinking of this person sent waves of nostalgia rippling through him. He felt like he was four again, sitting the back seat with Jeanne and Matthew, staring the darkening sky and the wall of mountain beside them.

The car spinning and crashing and his breaths hitching as he realized Arthur was not awake. The cold dread set in when a small trickle of blood matted Matthew's pale hair to his forehead. The agonizing fear nearly crippled him when he saw Jeanne's dress- such a pretty parakeet-yellow it had been!- quickly fading to deep Maroon at her waist. Her hair hid most of her face from Alfred's view, but he could see the barest splash of blood on the windshield. Confusion overtook him. _What just happened? What's wrong? Why isn't anyone else awake? What is going _on? Then, suddenly, car door was yanked open and-

Nothing.

His mind was at a blank. Why couldn't he remember? That person had gotten him out of the car. He… had talked with someone. Someone else. A girl, maybe? Alfred wasn't quite sure. Already he felt the hints fading back to the recesses of his mind. It never failed to leave him hanging when he tried to think of what happened.

The first thing he remembered after the accident was seeing Francis, Gilbert, and Antonio run in, soaking wet from the downpour. Alfred had been sitting in a glass room on a very hard, uncomfortable seat. He remembered worrying about his shoes- worrying about those _stupid shoes_- and seeing Francis ignore him and run past the room he was in, panic and despair written clean on his face. There had been another someone there with him. A blonde someone, with a funny name. Again, there was little Alfred could recall about this person, aside from laughing at his name. _Laughing_ while Jeanne was dead and Arthur was barely clinging to his life.

Alfred wasn't even aware Lovino had ceased his rants about Aria, face red from more than just bottled anger. The Italian's eyes misted, but he refused to let any tears fall with so many witnesses- so many _strangers._

_Daddy told me not to talk to strangers, but these strangers are really persistent!_

A blurry scene invaded his mind. A man with an absurd dark beard smiling at him, the grin not quite reaching his bleary, blood-shot eyes. Alfred couldn't remember his name, but it had sounded _absurd_, whatever it was. He must have been with the girl who spoke in foreign-ese.

_He has a funnier name than Vash. Maybe… I shouldn't have made fun of his name._

Vash…. Vash? Vash! VASH!

Alfred suddenly slammed his hands on the table. Feliciano shrieked in surprise, latching himself onto Lovino's arm. Matthew practically fell out of his seat, but luckily Katyusha caught him in time. Kiku flinched back, smacking his head against the window with a slight moan. Emil was suddenly jerked awake by everyone's sudden exclamation, face sliding from his palm to meet the table below. Abel burst out laughing to this.

"HIS NAME WAS VASH!" Alfred burst, overpowering Abel's cackling. He grabbed Matthew's shoulders. "Mattie, I finally remembered! That guy with the funny name was _Vash!_ He was the paramedic!"

"Wh-what are you talking about?" Matthew squeaked in a very manly manner. Katyusha's eyebrows had furrowed together. _Paramedic? Funny name…?_

Antonio's eyes went wide as the memory slammed into him as well. "You mean the blonde man that was sitting with you?"

Alfred nodded enthusiastically. "Yes! Him! I can't believe I finally _remembered!_"

Kiku was hopelessly lost. He realized there had been a wreck, but Vash? Lovino's mother divorcing? Something about the conversation leaving Matthew with a white face and nearly reducing Alfred to a zombie-like state? While Alfred plopped back in his seat, still cheering at his victory over the subconscious mind, Kiku leaned forward over the table. "Matthew, are you alright?"

Alfred ceased.

The shop, once again, fell silent. The cashier, Tavian Lupei, had been hanging onto the group's every word thus far, and wasn't about to interrupt now. He leaned on the counter, absently blowing dark hair out of his face. This was _gold_. His cousin, Feliks, would love to get in on this once he moved during the holidays.

Matthew blushed a bit at suddenly being everyone's center of attention. Along with Kiku's concern came Tino's. The blonde frowned softly and pointed out, "You're really pale. Do you want me to get you some water?"

"I-I'm fine," he whispered. Matthew sighed and drew into himself, knowing he wasn't going to be able to get out of this without painful story time. "It's just… my mom-"

The lights flickered.

The high school students and Tavian looked up in confusion right as the lights went out for good. Feliciano let out yet another frightened wail, practically crushing Lovino's arm. "What's going on?" he shrilled. "What happened to the lights?"

"Hang on guys," Tavian said, feeling his way from behind the counter to the back of the shop where they kept the maintenance supplies. He wished he hadn't been subjected to working alone that morning with so many people (albeit _interesting _people) and a freak power outage. When Tavian had agreed to this absurd shift, the twenty-year-old had figured he could spend his morning reading that amazing horror book he bought the other day. Not this.

Finally finding the correct drawer, Tavian pulled out a few spare flashlights. "You can take these for now," he offered upon coming back to the kids. "The lights are off across the street too. Must be a town black out or something. Mind if I sit with you?"

Tavian took the empty seat next to Katyusha. Everyone else, with the inclusion of the blonde supermodel family, were slightly squished together around the round tables off in the corner of the shop. Tavian supposed he should tell his manager that they ought to invest in buying more tables if these kids were going to do this often.

The kids had fallen silent with the power outage. Kiku had taken a flashlight to read by until things returned to normal, Abel had taken one to flash in Nikolaus's face (it did not remain in his possession very long), and Feliciano had taken one to ward off the evils lurking in the darkness.

Tavian liked this kid.

Clearing his throat to catch everyone's attention, Tavian sat his flashlight on the table so it lit up his face. He grimly smiled. "How about we share a few ghost stories?"

"Yes!" Abel instantly agreed, fist-pumping the air. "Emil, tell 'em about The Bride!"

Emil frowned at his brother, but sighed and commenced the story anyway.

"A traveling minister on his way home was caught in a terrible storm one night," he began, ignoring Abel's admonition at giving a crappy beginning to the story. "He wasn't a man to believe in luck, but when his car broke down, the minister was starting to believe he had the rotten brand of luck. Seeking refuge from the storm until he could work on his car, the minister found himself near an old house.

"The house looked like it hadn't been lived in for years, so the minister did not feel bad about intruding. Besides, it helped that the door was unlocked. The minister started up a fire in the fireplace and quickly fell asleep in a recliner."

Feliciano shivered. "I'd be too scared to sleep in a creepy old house like that," he whispered.

Lovino didn't say a word, but he completely agreed with his brother.

Emil continued: "At some point in the time, after the storm had died down a considerable amount, the minister woke up to the sound of something thumping in the basement down below. He was quiet for a moment, listening for another sound. When he heard nothing, he simply claimed it was the gutters and went back to sleep. However, he soon heard another noise- this time sounding like the creaking of stairs. The minister got up and took a quick look further into the stairs. He found a door leading into the basement.

"He peered inside through the darkness…."

Tavian's grin widened as Feliciano and Lovino's eyes grew wider.

"…and saw something staring up at him."

Emil paused, slightly smirking, to let this sink in. Abel was practically rocking in his seat, the kid, and beamed at everyone. The responded by in turn staring at him apprehensively a moment before turning back to Emil, eager for the rest of the story.

At least, everyone but Alfred and the Carriedo's.

Alfred was a tough guy, he liked to think of himself as. He was the football team's burly defense alongside Ludwig, and nothing- _nothing_- could scare him. But like every good superhero, Alfred had a weakness: horror stories, movies, _suggestions-_ But he was not a chicken. Alfred was tough. Alfred did not squeal like a girl.

Satisfied at the horrified faces he received from three of his audience, Emil started up the story. "Upon seeing the dark mass at the bottom of the stairs, the minister slammed the door and started piling furniture in front to blockade it below. Now, he didn't believe in the supernatural, and thus tried to convince himself what he had heard and seen was nothing but his overactive imagination. After listening for a little while longer, and hearing nothing, he calmed himself down enough to sleep yet again.

"He woke up to the sun shining in his face. Glad to have not been woken up again, the minister decided last nights' events had been nothing but his imagination. Chuckling to himself over his overreaction to the old house and his predicament, the minister set to putting the furniture back to its rightful place. Just to further prove to himself he had just been fooling himself, he opened the door.

"In front of him stood a corpse."

Feliciano sucked in a horrified breath at this melding further into Lovino's side. Lovino responded by shuffling closer to Antonio, completely unfazed by the story. In fact, he had taken up texting Gilbert.

Emil leaned forward, dropping his voice. "The corpse was a woman, no older than twenty, dressed in the rags of a wedding dress that once had been beautiful. She had no eyes, just holes that held a peculiar blue light within. The minister was frozen in fear. Seeing he was not going to run away, the woman spoke. She asked him for his help, explaining the tragic story of her murder. Her greedy husband had wanted her riches and, when she did not tell him where she had hidden it, he had murdered her and left her in the basement. The minister realized she was not going to hurt him, and agreed to do everything in his power to help her. The bride thanked him and took off her pinky-"

"Ew!" Feliciano squeaked.

"-and handed it to the minister. She told him to put it in the offering plate at his church the very next Sunday and he would find her husband. After he had found her murderer, he was to come back to her home and she would reveal to him the hiding place of her riches to donate to his church.

"The minister left and did according to her wishes. That Sunday, as people went up to donate to the offering plate, the pinky latched itself onto a man's finger. Frightened by the occurance, he admitted to murdering her. The minister had him arrested. Sure enough to his word, he came back to the old house to tell the bride he had caught her husband. He looked through every inch of the house, but could not find her. Right as he was about to leave, sure she had passed on, a hole in the back of the fireplace caught his attention. Several bricks had been removed to reveal a large box. When the minister opened it, he found thousands of dollars within. He donated all of it to his church, silently giving thanks to the bride, praying that she now rested in peace knowing her murderer had been punished for his deeds. The end."

Tavian "accidentally" knocked over his light.

Alfred let out an ungodly screech, falling back in his chair. At his scream, Lovino and Feliciano jumped up, clinging to each for dear life, wailing in a very similar manner. After their terrorized screams had been overpowered by the chortling laughter of everyone else present, Alfred picked himself off the floor, casting a murderous look to Tavian, grinning wickedly. Right as he poised to rant, Alfred caught sight of a looming shadow walking towards the coffee shop through the swirling snow.

He was amazed at how the storm had progressed over the course of an hour. There was no doubt in his mind about the ice having knocked the power out. Alfred could only imagine the damage done throughout town.

But that dark figure….

Tavian followed his gaze, flinching in shock. "Some idiot is _outside _in that?" he burst. The cashier dashed to the door, beckoning him in.

"Stop!" Feliciano shouted. "It's a zombie! It's a zombie that's going to EAT US!" The ten-year-old yelped when he discovered a second, shorter mass trailing after the first. They looked vaguely human, bundled up in parkas so thickly they looked like the white marshmallow man on tire advertisements. They were zombies in PARKAS come to EAT THEIR BRAINS.

However, when the first hulking, shivering mass swung open the door to the coffee shop, Feliciano discovered they were, in fact, not zombies. Their skin wasn't rotting off and they luckily still had their eyeballs. The taller parka-clad man quickly ushered the other, heavy-laden with a hiking backpack, inside and shut the door, saving what little warmth was left in the coffee shop. After shaking snow off on the welcome rug, the mass took off his hood.

"YOU!" Lovino roared, unsuccessfully attempting to jump across Antonio to tackle into Ludwig Beilschmit.

"_Ja_, me," he said distractedly. Gilbert also uncovered his face, dropping the backpack on the soggy rug. "Mr. Carriedo, we brought the camping supplies."

"_Bueno!_" the Spaniard chirped, jumping up to survey Gilbert's bounty.

When Alfred eventually realized he could see his breath, he was suddenly thankful that Ludwig was a paranoid freak who believe in being as prepared as possible. The German was, like, the ultimate boy scout.

Alfred certainly didn't argue to a blanket to share with Matthew and Kiku. While Gilbert and Antonio passed out the other blankets, Lugwig and Tavian set to unfolding portable cooking stoves, lit up by kerosene cans underneath. There were only two stoves, so they eventually moved to their chairs closer together around Alfred and the Carriedo's tables. The Vainamoinen's were the least affected by the cold, seemingly fine in their sweaters for now. Abel had given up their blanket to Katyusha, who shared with Tavian and Emil. He argued that it was the older brothers' duty to help out their baby brother and a lady before helping themselves, seeming to completely forget about Tavian's existence as the blonde flashed Katyusha a blindingly white smile.

Nikolaus made a wry comment about him only wanting brownie points with the pretty school councilor.

Matthew thanked his lucky stars that his father was not present to add his opinion. Matthew jumped up to drag over two chairs for Ludwig and Gilbert, whom he felt the group owed for saving their skins. After Gilbert and Ludwig had sat down at Antonio's table, Ludwig noticed Feliciano for the first time. The German stared blankly at him for a moment, almost completely matching the expression on the ten-year-old's face.

Feliciano spoke first. "You're Ludwig, aren't you?" he asked. Before he could confirm this, a smile lit up Feliciano's face. "You're Heilrich's cousin! Roderich's nephew! I talked on the phone with you, remember? I told you all about my cat- his name was _Gattino_, remember? Ooh! We were talking about this book I read where everyone knew everyone somehow and by the end of the book they're all really good friends and everyone gets a happy ending! Well, except for these two guys who die falling off of Niagara Falls and the girl who gets in a tragic accident involving a dog and a rocket launcher, but I don't really count them anyway."

When Feli took a deep breath to continue, Lovino quickly interrupted, déjà vu smacking him in the face. He did _not _want to reenact the fiasco at the funeral. Besides, it was already bad enough that he had to share a table with such a stupid, hulking Beilschmit anyway. It didn't help matters when Feli started up his motor mouth. "Cashier guy, do you think the coffee back there is still hot?"

Tavian nodded. "Great idea! Coffee on the house, guys. What my boss doesn't know won't hurt him." While Tavian busied himself behind the counter once more, Matthew nervously kicked his legs under the table. Katyusha had been so eerily quiet, like _she _was secretly a zombie waiting to pounce on them.

Matthew inwardly scowled. He really needed to stop watching horror movies with Alfred. Nothing good ever came of it… if you didn't count watching Alfred shriek like a little girl at the first sight of blood. That was always a refreshing sound to hear after a day of putting up with him. Slightly frowning, he quietly asked, "Ms. Braginski, are you alright?"

The woman jumped, startled. "Oh… I'm fine, Matthew. Thank you. Just… a little worried, I suppose. My brother was wanting to play hockey today."

"Ivan?" he asked. Matthew smiled. "I was going to try out today too. Hockey's just about the only sport I'm very good at."

Katyusha looked at him in disbelief. Matthew Bonnefoy- quiet, polite Matthew Bonnefoy- was the last person she ever expected to be a fan of such a violent sport as hockey. Alfred caught her look and grimly nodded. "He gets into his hockey, let me tell you," he said in his friend's defense. "You should have seen him last year while we were watching the Olympics. He was red and white from head to toe, cheering for the Canadians like a maniac." Alfred suddenly scowled at him. "Dude, you're American. It's, like, terrorist to cheer for Canada."

"The Canadians are beastly individuals, Alfred," Matthew shot back. "They kicked America's butt in the War of 1812."

"They did not-"

Kiku cleared his throat, looking up from his book. "Actually… the Canadians did win the War of 1812. The Americans surrendered after they burned the White House. In World War II, the Canadians were the only Allied Power to successfully recapture territory from the Germans. Britain and France combined could not recapture it. Also, when the Germans took control of the Netherlands, the Dutch only trusted Canada to take care of their royalty. The Dutch princess was born in Canada while they were being protected. The Germans feared the Canadians so much that many of them fled when they learned they were going to be fighting them. So yes, Alfred, it is true the Canadians are quite fearsome."

Once the Asian had said he peace, he quietly resumed his reading. Alfred shook his head in disbelief. "You are like the Human History Book, dude."

Alice chuckled from her nestled spot in the corner of the room beside Feliciano. "You should see him in class. He practically finishes Mr. Karpusi's sentences."

"He's my uncle!" Feliciano proudly piped in. He smiled up Alice. "He started teaching history because that's what my _Nonno _used to do. He taught at Harvard."

Lovino waited for the tears to come, but Feliciano's smile held fast on his face. The boy refused to be sad surrounded by so many happy faces. He didn't want to make them sad.

"Oh, that's cool!" Alice complied. "Lars- my big brother- went to college with Mr. Karpusi. I wonder if he ever met your grandfather."

After thinking for a moment, Feliciano nodded. "Maybe. Nonno knew a _lot _of people."

A calm quiet filled the room once more. Feliciano and Alice talked lowly about Roma, Lovino proudly showing off his watch when the conversation mentioned it. Alfred and Matthew talked sports with Katyusha. She was hopelessly lost in their conversation, but nodded and smiled along anyway. Tino had skipped over to help Tavian with their drinks, speaking about Tavian's cousin. He had lived in Heta until the third grade when he and his parents moved back to Poland. Feliks was coming back a few weeks before Christmas.

Antonio and Gilbert were the ones to break the peace first. Antonio's boisterous laugh lit up the room, outing everyone in the room. "_Lo dices colgaramos a Matthew al reves del techo!_"

Gilbert shared his laugh, texting away on his phone. "I didn't understand a word you just said, but I'm telling Francy-Pants we hung Matthew upside down from the ceiling."

"_What?_" the boy in question burst.

The men exchanged a smile before bursting into laughter once more. "W-we," Gilbert gasped through his laughing, "are freaking Francis out and it is _hilarious._"

Matthew gaped. "That's terrible! You don't joke around like that when we're snowed in at a coffee shop with no power!"

"Way to lighten the mood, Mattie," Alfred sighed.

Gilbert waved the admonition away. "You're starting to sound like your mother, Mattie."

Instead of falling into depression or being insulted at this, Matthew grew hopeful. "Really?" he asked.

The German nodded. "Oh, yeah. Jeanne was always getting onto us for aggravating Francis every hour of the day. She said that with all the calls from us and Arthur, they had terrible phone bills to pay. And it didn't help when you got the phone and pretended to call Alfred, turning on the phone and never hanging up."

The blonde's smile widened. "What did she do to you?"

Gilbert snorted. "Pull out the bible and find a verse to twist around and say _thou shalt not call Francis every hour._ Nah, she just laughed and told Antonio to bring over churros and me bring wurst so we could party. Sadly, your mom did not allow beer, so it wasn't a _real _party, but oh well."

"_Vati_, I don't think you should promote alcohol to a group of minors," Ludwig pointed out.

"Nonsense!" Abel burst. "I'm completely with him on this one! Beer is awesome!"

The blonde sighed. "At least wait on conversation until we're twenty-one?"

Matthew put them back on-topic. "Anything else?"

Gilbert cocked his head thoughtfully, looking him over. "Well, you're the spitting image of her. But you have Francis's hair."

While they talked more, Feliciano tugged on Lovino's sleeve. "Did Jeanne and Francis divorce like _Mamma _and _Papà_?"

Lovino frowned. Tavian and Tino came then, handing out various decafs and frappes. Feliciano was handed a cup of hot chocolate. "_Gratzie!_" he called out before turning expectantly back to Lovino.

He scratched the back of his head. "W-well, um, Jeanne died, Feli. A long time ago."

The ten-year-old's face dropped. He turned back to Matthew, his face so hopeful and happy to hear about his mother. Matthew didn't remember her at all, Feliciano realized. He had never known his mother. Lovino had remembered Aria to extent, but he only remembered the bad parts. Aria was a good person, Feliciano was sure. She tucked him in every night without fail and sung to him in Italian when he got scared by harsh thunderstorms. They would spend Christmas together with _Nonno _and sing and laugh together. With so much smiling going around him, Feliciano hadn't dwelt much on imagining what Antonio was like. Sure, he asked _Nonno _about him all the time, but he doubted he ever wore Matthew's expression on this.

Maybe because he knew he might see him again one day? Feliciano wasn't sure.

But for the moment, he was just fine. He sat between his brother and Alice, being kept warm by them and a blanket from Heilrich's cousin. Back home he had _Mamma_, Heilrich, Roderich, and Elizabeta. When Christmas came, he'd also be with Herakles, Sadiq, and Gupta. Feliciano was surrounded by all kinds of people he knew and loved. There wasn't any reason he should frown.

So he didn't. For the next several minutes until the power flickered back and everyone cheered, Feliciano smiled and laughed. It didn't matter that Alice had accidentally hugged him too tight and hurt his shoulder, or that Ludwig had politely ignored him when Feliciano started up another conversation with him. He figured Heilrich's cousin was just shy.

Shortly after the power came on did Francis Bonnefoy burst into the shop. He was out of breath, like he had ran there, and his face was red from the cold sting of snow outside. There had collected a good six inches during their time together. Francis let out a garbled thanks in French to the sky, smushing Matthew into his parka, glaring at Gilbert and Antonio. His friends merely laughed.

Feliciano had decided this was a great day.

Katyusha had decided she needed to talk with Alfred about a certain little boy she had helped ten years ago.

**Translations:**

**German-**

_**Ja- Yes**_

_**Vati- Dad**_

**Spanish-**

_**Bueno- good**_

_**Lo dices colgamos a Matthew al reves del techo!- Tell him we hung Matthew upside down from the ceiling!**_

**Italian-**

_**Gattino- Kitty**_

_**Nonno- Grandpa**_

_**Mamma- Mom**_


	17. Chapter 17

**Moral of this chapter: clean around your house, guys. No telling what dark secrets await you. *cue a maniacal laugh* By the way, Tavian was Romania. Good guess, Kyo, but Lithuania isn't Poland's cousin. They're just really good friends, as we'll see a bit later.**

**Also, guys, when you think about it, the "Noah and the Ark" argument is something to think about….**

**Chapter 17-**

Half of the week had come and gone with no school as the snow kept pouring from the sky. Antonio, after shoveling around the complex and down the street, had eventually given up on his endeavors. If people wanted to go out and about in this crazy weather, they could shovel themselves out. The Vainamoinen's and Alfred had been outside for hours on end every day to snowball fight. The brunette quickly learned he was no match when Abel and Nikolaus teamed up with Emil against him, Berwald, and Tino. Although Berwald was taller and broader than any of them, he was more concerned with blocking Tino, leaving Alfred wide open.

Alfred began to realize how Matthew and Francis felt after a snowball match with him.

But this new competition only made things more fun.

Matthew, happy that Alfred was outside and distracted for a while, hung out with Arthur. He had come to help him with his winter cleaning rituals, "so that the old man won't fall down again and have to call for LifeAlert", Alfred had said. He found it was actually kind of refreshing to mop and scrub until everything was fresh and clean. Matthew found it utterly hilarious when he suddenly remembered Ludwig during their eighth grade field trip to Washington, D.C. Matthew had been roomed with him and Toris, and the only thing those two had done while at the hotel was _clean_. Toris had joked about it at first, saying that he wanted to be polite to the maids when they had to come and tidy up. Ludwig took this to a whole new step, going as far as to scrubbing the sink with their spare washcloths to rid it of stray toothpaste. He was so _serious _about his cleaning.

Now every time Matthew had to polish the tables or wash some dishes from breakfast, he couldn't help but crack up at Ludwig's dead-serious expression.

"Could you do Alfred's bedroom next?" Arthur asked, scrubbing furiously at a spot of mold on the corner of one of the windows. "And thank you so much again, Matthew."

"You're welcome," he smiled back. Matthew nudged the door open with his foot, tying his hair back. This was going to be the challenge of a lifetime.

Matthew took a deep breath, grabbed his cleaning spray and rag, and dived into the room. Alfred seemed to have a peculiar way of organizing his piles of junk. In one corner lay his dirty clothes (Matthew decided to throw that out first for Arthur to wash later), his school things in another (books probably untouched and homework certainly not finished), and a pile of magazines, CD's, and other things of the like in the third corner. Alfred's bed was squished into the final corner of the room. His bed looked like it hadn't been made it months.

There was no telling what sort of horrors lay waiting under the bed.

After gingerly kicking out the reeking clothes, Matthew began the tedious task of sorting through Alfred's various pop CD's. When he found a song he liked, he had to buy every single album available from that artist, regardless if he even liked the other songs. It had always annoyed Matthew to death. How could he just waste money like that? Sorting through these, Matthew discovered CD's that hadn't even been removed from the plastic.

Everything else had been substantially easier. Luckily Alfred hadn't been cooking by himself and hadn't left anything behind to mutate under his bed. Matthew had heard plenty of terrible stories from Arthur about what lurked under Alfred's bed. For a boy who was scared silly by the mere mention of ghosts, he wasn't very afraid of anything else wise.

When Matthew emerged from Alfred's room- which now smelled liked lemon Lysol- he found himself alone. Matthew didn't think long about where Arthur had gone, nor did he brood about being forgotten so easily. It was a natural occurrence Matthew was well used to by now. After a moment of surveying their work in the living room, Matthew decided to get a head start on cleaning Arthur's room.

His room was far cleaner than Alfred's had been. For a moment, Matthew considered simply leaving the room as it was. Everything seemed spotless to him, except for a pile of papers scattered at the foot of his bed. Matthew didn't want to snoop- but when "Home Finder" popped out amongst the pile, he couldn't just ignore it.

Since when did Arthur want to move?

Matthew quietly sat down on the bed, gently sliding the flimsy book out of the rest- all bills and notes scribbled in Arthur's illegible handwriting. There were a few houses circled, possible candidates. Several pages were dog-eared and others marked. Arthur seemed to be in a rush to find a house by the look of things. But it still didn't answer Matthew's initial question: why did he want to leave so badly? Arthur had seemed to be the one most content with his home out of the others. Francis often mused about getting out and finding someplace respectable while Antonio was "waiting for the right moment"- which probably meant they liked things the way they were and didn't feel like moving any time soon.

He tried to decipher some of Arthur's notes, but Matthew could barely pick out a few words in Arthur's scrawled cursive. It was elegant, that was for sure, but it looked _too _elegant to the point it looked like a foreign language. Finally he found something he could read. It still had to be scrutinized, but wasn't in Arthur's cursive. No, this was written too hastily for that.

"Other side of town… have to keep… away from… Samantha," Matthew read aloud. The air of silence surrounding his words only made him more confused. Who was Samantha?

"Ugh, Matthew, I can't believe I just walked out without telling you," Arthur started, the sound of the front door opening.

Matthew shoved the pile back into its original state and hopped out to meet Arthur in the living room. The blonde was a terrible liar. But most times Arthur didn't pay attention long enough to notice something like the validity of his words. Matthew was insanely glad for once that he normally went by unnoticed.

"I went to check the mail," Arthur continued to explain. "Saw Ludwig jogging and stopped to say hello. Sorry."

"It's okay," Matthew said. His voice sounded thicker with worry. Arthur didn't notice. "Um, I finished Alfred's room. Do you want me to-"

"I'll get my room," he said a little too quickly. That meant he had wanted to keep the moving business a secret for now. Oops. "I believe that's about all, Matthew. Thank you for your help."

He replied more slowly this time. "Uh, y-you're welcome. I'll… be going back home now. Bye, Arthur."

"Bye, Matthew."

((((()))))

Feliciano could think of thousands of ways to keep himself occupied. That was no problem. But this was proving to be difficult while Antonio was busy fixing lunch and Lovino was tuning out the world by listening to loud music next to the heater in the corner. Feliciano had considered going to sit with him, but Lovino had been anxious about the something and kept checking his phone every so often. Antonio knew as little as Feliciano- either that, or he wasn't telling- and thus hadn't been much help in discovering what had gotten his brother so down.

At first he had turned to TV. However, none of his favorite shows were on at this early hour- the baby shows were still playing, seeing as this was a school day. Feliciano had hoped someone would have sent them a message, telling them that there was no school and he had nothing to do. He had then tried working on his own homework, but thoughts of the snow outside had distracted him into putting his books back in his suitcase. Feli had promised Aria he would get it done, but he figured he could do his homework on the ride back to Massachusetts.

The next item on his list of things to do was to help Antonio cook. His father had been cooking some kind of seafood dish- something he had apparently eaten back in Spain- and kept boasting about how delicious it was going to be.

However, Feliciano arrived almost too late to help. All that needed to be done was to cut up the seafood to put over the dish. He wasn't allowed to use knives, so he instead chose to set the table. Antonio told him it was alright to set out the good plates since he was going to call everyone else over to eat with them. It had just seemed like a good day to spend with company, he had explained.

Feliciano normally didn't set the table at his house. Not to say he couldn't- it was just most times Aria did that. Feli wasn't very good with breakable things. He was extra careful as he pulled over a chair to climb on and retrieve the plates and glasses. They were going to need a lot, so Feli took several at a time. The plates were heavier than he had anticipated. On the second trip to the cabinet, Feliciano took less plates. Right as he was getting them down, he heard Alfred shout something out in the hall. He jumped in surprise, losing grip on the plates he had been holding.

When they fell, Feliciano dived to get them. Antonio barely caught him in time from falling. One plate fell to the floor and shattered.

He stared down at the shattered plate a moment, face slowly going white. Feliciano blocked out the anxious chirps from Antonio, asking if he was okay. Yes, he was okay. But the plate….

He broke it.

His apology came out with a flood. "I-I didn't mean to!" Feliciano said in a higher octave than normal. "I tried to catch it! I promise I tried to catch it! Please don't be mad- I'll go pick it up right now!"

Feliciano jumped out of Antonio's arms, looking around eagerly for a broom. He had to clean it up, he had to clean it up before Marco found him and hit him for breaking it, and-

"Whoa, h-hey!" Antonio stuttered, grabbing hold of his shoulders. He didn't feel Feliciano's flinch under his hands. "It's okay! Calm down! Alfred gets the best of all of us, alright? It's okay. One plate isn't going to hurt anything. I'll go clean this up. Did you get cut?"

Tears welled up in his eyes. Antonio instantly looked him over, taking this mean he had indeed gotten cut from the broken porcelain. Feliciano hugged him before he could finish his assessment.

Realizing something big had just happened, Lovino rushed over to them. Feliciano turned away from a stunned, confused Antonio to cry into Lovino's shirt instead. As he stumbled over comforting words, Lovino jerked his head over to the broom. Antonio quietly set to cleaning up. Once he had successfully gotten Feliciano to the couch, Lovino quietly asked, "What happened?"

Feli shamelessly wiped his tears with his long sleeves. "_P-Papà _is going to be m-mad at me. I-I broke the plate!"

"Come on," Lovino said. "That's not anything big. I break the dining stuff all the time, and he doesn't get mad at me. Even he's dropped a glass or two. It's nothing to get all fussy about."

"B-but-"

"No buts. Shut up," Lovino said, taking a different road. He was frankly getting sick of sugar coating things. "Stop crying like a baby. We've already told you you're not in trouble. You're just being a brat now."

Feliciano furiously wiped at his eyes. "S-sorry," he sniffed, trying hard to keep his tears at bay now.

Antonio walked over, having cleaned up without any problems. He worriedly ruffled Feliciano's hair. Feliciano's crying was something completely foreign to him. Lovino's rants and rampages he could handle. This… this he could not. It had been a long time since he had to console a crying little boy, and it didn't help that Antonio didn't know exactly what he was crying over in the first place. "Um… how about a song!" Antonio suggested brightly. "Ah… hmm…. Oh! _Los Pollitos!_ I used to sing that to Lovi when he didn't want to go to bed. He always went straight to sleep."

Without waiting for a reply, Antonio started to sing. "_Los pollitos dicen, Los pollitos dicen pío, pío, pío. Cuando tienen hambre, cuando tienen frío. La gallina busca el maíz y el trigo, les da la comida y les presta abrigo. Bajo de sus alas, acurrucaditos, ¡Duermen los pollitos hasta el otro día!_"

When he had finished, he peeked down at Feliciano to find him pacified. Antonio offered him a smile and ruffled his hair again. "All better now?"

"_Sì_."

"Good! Hey, you and Lovi can go call everyone in!"

Lovino grumbled out a complaint, but moved for the door anyway. Feliciano offered a small smile at his brother's attitude. Even when he yelled at him, Feli was sure Lovino was a good person. He just had a funny way of being nice. Suddenly, Lovino stopped when his phone rang. "Hello?" he quickly answered. "Lili?"

Lili? Who was Lili? Lovino ignored Feli's question, waving him off to start knocking on doors and relaying the message. "So everything went okay?" Feliciano heard him ask. "You weren't having surgery when the power went off, were you? …Good. We were snowed in at the coffee shop. Yeah, the one behind school. Hey, when do you want me to come over? …SCREW HIM!"

Feliciano shrieked and Matthew's eyes went wide in surprise. Lovino angrily stomped. "Your dad is stupid! Of course I'm going to come and visit you! Then tell him to shut up and get over it!"

Lovino's face went pale. "I-I'm sorry, sir. I was, um, talking to someone else away from the phone and…. Y-yes, sir. I-I won't do it again. I apologize. Ah, n-n-n-no, I wouldn't like that, sir. I-I swear!" He wasted no time in hanging up.

"Was that just Lili?" Matthew asked. Arthur and Francis followed him outside, Alfred trailing out after them. "Is she-"

"Is she okay?" Alfred interrupted. He didn't notice the annoyed scowl Matthew cast him. His scowl turned into a murderous glare when Alfred took a noisy slurp of Coke.

"Alfred, that was _mine!_"

The Italian nodded, nervously rubbing the back of his head. Color was slowly returning to his face. "Everything's alright. She sounded wiped out, though. She wanted to know if we could come over this afternoon to visit. Her dad's supposed to go to work so we'll be safe."

"I'll drive," Arthur offered.

"Um… who is Lili?"

Everyone turned to look at Feliciano. The boy shrunk back under their gazes. "Lili is a friend of ours," Matthew quietly explained. "She's… really sick. Hopefully she'll be getting better soon, though."

He nodded. "Oh. Um, I'll go get Alice and L… Larry?"

"Lars."

"Right!"

"Other direction, Feli!"

"Right! Sorry!"

((((()))))

Lunch had been quite the spectacle, in Tino's opinion. Of course, he was still getting over the initial shock of being invited to lunch with everyone. Antonio's kitchen was packed and nearly running over with neighbors, but this only served to widen his smile. The same could not be said of Lovino, however. He scowled at everyone, at having been redirected from the table- "It's _my _table, so why can't I sit at it?"- and at having been subjected to lunch before going to see Lili.

Amidst Lovino's grumblings, Francis and Arthur went at it. At first, Tino had been afraid they would actually get into a fight with all the teasing and yelling they did, but no one else seemed to be bothered like this. They acted as though seeing Arthur attempting to choke Francis and Francis in turn spewing no-doubt nasty French at him was nothing short of ordinary.

These guys almost made his family look normal.

Tino had a smile on his face throughout the lively lunch, joining in everyone's laughter every time Arthur creatively called Francis another French-degrading comment.

Yes, this was definitely his favorite home yet. But even with their cozy apartment and lively neighbors, it didn't change the fact that they were five guys- two of them giants- living in a small space together. It wouldn't take long for Abel to grow irritated and for Nikolaus to start his search for another place. They were stay there for a year or two at most, then leave someplace far away. Maybe Tino would talk to Alfred and the others for a few weeks, but, like with all his other friends, they would reply slower and slower until they stop talking all together. That's how everyone else had been.

"Mm," Berwald started, nudging Tino out of his reverie. "Wh't's wr'ng?"

"Oh, n-nothing," he twittered, putting the smile back on his face. Moving was in the future. For now, he was happy and laughing. Being sad would have to wait until then.

Berwald didn't seem convinced, as usual, but left him alone for now, turning back just in time to smack Abel's hand before he stole one of Tino's churros while he was distracted. At the stern look the blonde gave his brother, Abel coughed nervously and pulled his hand back. "Not cool, Berwald, playing favorites."

"I'd d' 't fer Nikl's 'n' 'mil too," Berwald rumbled in his defense. He looked slightly put down at being accused of not caring for his other brothers. Tino gulped at his sullen look and awkwardly patted his shoulder.

"Course he would," Nikolaus agreed. "I just beat him to it because you seem to pick on me more than the others."

"It's cause you look cutest when you're mad and- oof!"

Nikolaus cracked his fingers and mumbled an apology for his rowdy behavior at the table. Abel glared at him, rubbing his aching, abused sid. "One of these days, you're gonna crack one of my ribs, and then you'll feel guilty."

"You've got tough bones. It's why your head is so thick."

"Hey, you're right!" Abel boasted. "I'm like an awesomely strong dude who's gonna look after all you weak little kids! Ha ha ha!"

Tino chuckled, shaking his head. He wasn't quite sure if Abel realized he was being insulted or if he simply brushed it off and turned it into a comment somehow. Either way, his brother astounded him so much sometimes.

"You guys up for some ice cream?" Antonio suddenly chirped, bouncing up with a smile on his face.

Abel's face lit up. "_Ja, tak_!"

Antonio blinked. Abel explained: "That was Danish. We each learned a different Scandanavian language, 'cause we're cool like that. Our family came for the Vikings. Made of awesome, let me tell you."

"That's cool!" Antonio agreed. "My family came over to the New World. My so-many-great grandpa was with Pizarro when he conquered the Incas. He was a famous Conquistador, too. And somehow, on my mother's side I think, we're part Roman and Celtic, too. Huh, I wonder if another of my great-something grandpas knew Julius Caeser. That would be cool."

Abel's face went blank. "Uh… we're… possibly related to Leif Erikson?"

"No we're not," Nikolaus blandly put in.

Emil perked up. "Wasn't Astrid Lindgren our distant cousin or something on Dad's side of the family?"

"By marriage."

"Oh."

"But she wrote Pippi Longstocking! That makes her famous!" Abel argued. "Besides, aren't we all related anyway because of Noah and his ark?"

Alfred and Matthew sighed as Arthur perked up. "Finally, someone agrees with me!" the Brit happily burst. "You see, it was Noah and his sons who brought their wives, and thus their children would all be cousins, so-"

"Could we please leave incest out of the discussion?" Lovino called from his miserable spot on the couch. He was currently smushed between Alice and Feliciano on the side, with Lars and Alfred on the other end. Matthew sat across from them in one of the recliners. The Vainamoinen's shared their crowded table with Arthur and Francis. Antonio sat with whoever had the most interesting conversation going on.

Tino merely laughed again, earning a smile from Berwald and a quirked grin from Nikolaus and Emil. Abel, completely ignoring Lovino, had already began telling Arthur all of his theories and pointing out that, in fact, Noah and his family on the ark meant that everyone on earth was related in someway, unless God created more people afterwards. So everyday, people were dating their so very many-distant cousins every second.

This was no doubt his favorite. Tino was really going to hate the day they had to leave.

((((()))))

Another violent shiver wracked through Lovino. "C-c-can you t-turn up the h-h-heat?"

"It's on full-blast," Arthur regretfully told him. "It'll warm up. Don't worry."

But Lovino deepened his frown and pulled his coat tighter around him. "_Odio este tiempo frío_."

Alfred rolled his eyes, stealing Feliciano's attention from his brother to him. "_Pues, yo odio tus quejas_."

Feliciano's mouth dropped. "You know Spanish, too?" he asked in awe. Did _everyone _but him know Spanish? He needed to learn as much as he could, then, before he went back home. If he learned Spanish, that meant he would know English, Italian, some German, _and _Spanish! That would be the coolest thing ever. He would have to teach Heilrich the Spanish he learned, too.

The thought of Heilrich instantly sobered him. Feliciano was basically his only friend. Without him at school, Heilrich was bound to be lonely. The boy suddenly felt bad for up and leaving without truly telling him. Heilrich always told him when he was going somewhere.

Although Feliciano figured that was so he wouldn't freak out like _last _time. But in his defense, there had been a bad storm, and Feliciano was worried because he hadn't known Heilrich was visiting his grandpa and thought something bad had happened because no one was answering their home phone. However, after he came back and Feliciano was assured he, Roderich, and Elizabeta were unharmed by the storm, the situation had a happy ending.

Suddenly, Arthur slammed on the brakes. Alfred, who was just about to say something, jerked forward, his seat belt catching him and pushing him back to his seat. "What the heck, Dad?" he burst. His hands had a death grip on the door and his seat's arm rest, his knuckles going white along with his face. Father and son rivaled each other in fear.

"Sam…." Arthur choked. He caught himself before he could say anything further, shaking his head. Before Alfred could look out the window to see what had gotten his father so worked up, Arthur sped forward, this time jerking them back.

"Who's Sam?" Alfred asked.

Feliciano watched Arthur's face grow even more pale. "Sam… Samuel… Clemens," he finally stuttered out. "Samuel Clemens. Mark Twain's real name. Just remembered."

"No, there was someone outside-"

"There wasn't anyone outside!" Arthur yelled.

Everyone flinched. Feliciano instinctively latched onto Lovino's arm, frowning up at Arthur's sudden change in demeanor. He knew Arthur liked to yell at Francis, but that was all joking and for fun. This… this was not something Feliciano thought Arthur was capable of. When he had spent the day with Arthur, so he could get to know him, he learned Arthur was a quiet, civil man who liked tea and only got loud when Alfred and Francis were nearby. From the looks of amazed terror on everyone else's faces, they apparently hadn't seen this side of Arthur either.

He noticed the boys staring at him in shock. Arthur shamefully kept his eyes locked on the road. "…I'm sorry," he finally grated out after a moment of silence. Still, no one spoke until they reached the hospital.

"Lili Zwingli?" Arthur asked at the receptionist's counter.

The woman blinked, her eyes growing large. "S-sir, you're very pale. Maybe you should sit down?"

"I'm fine, I…. Wait a minute, don't I know you from somewhere…?"

At the same time, the woman and Arthur gasped. "You were the crazy guy who ran two miles through that traffic jam!" the woman said first.

Alfred's eyes matched the woman's. "You _what?_"

"Long story. Ah, ma'am, could you please tell us where Lili's room is?" Arthur tried again.

But the woman was too wrapped up in the memory, slowing shaking her head in awe. "You ran two miles through traffic to reach your wife here. I remember, now. You passed out here and-"

The same cold look from the car came back to his face. "_Ma'am_," he interrupted pointedly.

She blinked. "O-oh, yes. Lili Zwingli. Um… she's in room 213. Have… a nice day, sir."

Feliciano may not have known Arthur very long, but he was certain there was something wrong with him. Something that everyone had picked up on. Something that made Matthew wear a dark, knowing frown on his face.

The ten-year-old held fast to Lovino's hand.

**Translations-**

**Spanish-**

_**Los pollitos- The little chickens (it's actually "the chicks" but I think "little chickens" sounds cuter.)**_

_**Los pollitos dicen, Los pollitos dicen pío, pío, pío. Cuando tienen hambre, cuando tienen frío. La gallina busca el maíz y el trigo, les da la comida y les presta de sus alas, acurrucaditos, ¡Duermen los pollitoshasta el otro día!- The little chickens say, the little chickens say pio pio pio. When they are hungry, when they are cold. The hen searches for the corn and the wheat, giving them a meal and lending them a coat. Below her wings, curled, Sleep little chickens until another day!**_

_**Odio este tiempo frío- I hate this cold weather**_

_**Pues, yo odio tus quejas- Well, I hate your complaining.**_

**Danish-**

_**Ja, tak!- Yeah, thank you!**_


	18. Chapter 18

**Haha, the reason I didn't reply to anyone's reviews this time is because I'm pretty sure everyone's questions and such will be answered with this chapter. Oh! But I found the song **_**Los Pollitos **_**on Google. Anyone know if it's on Youtube? Because that song is adorable. :D**

**IF YOU HAVE NOT, READ **_**TO KILL A MOCKINGBIRD**_**. I love that book. The lesson Atticus gives his son on courage will stick with you forever. I absolutely have to put his words into this story at some point, so be on the lookout, alright?**

**Also, I went to the doctor. They think I'm lactose intolerant. Well, for your information, lady, milk does **_**not **_**make my stomach hurt. Nor does cheese or any of the other delicious dairy products that make up most of my diet. So I thank you for making me starve this week. Thanks.**

**By the way… I kind of lied earlier. Feliciano was not the last tragedy. This new character is quite a doozy, if I say so myself. This also a really short chapter, because I really didn't like the translation from this character's part to Alfred and the gang. Sorry about that.**

**Chapter 18-**

Samantha Jones, on December 1st, had been minding her own business, scraping ice off of her car's windshield. Her old neighbor, Mrs. Dubose, had come back from the grocery store and she paused her activities to help her inside. Mrs. Dubose was such a dear, unlike her namesake in _To Kill a Mockingbird. _For the past two years Samantha had lived back in Heta, Mrs. Dubose had been sure to keep her company and out of trouble. Any time Samantha's dear neighbor needed anything, she was quick to help.

After all, Mrs. Dubose had dragged her sorry self home after making a fool of herself in front of Arthur.

She had tried- she had really, truly tried to forget about Arthur and Alfred. After all, their goodbye had been absolutely final. They went their separate ways fourteen years ago with no intention of ever meeting again.

But that didn't stop regret from wriggling its way into her mind. Samantha had bone back to college, determined to get her master's degree in every subject she had ever remotely liked. It didn't matter how many years it would take- so long as Samantha kept herself busy, allowing her mind no time to recall Arthur and Alfred. With each passing day, however, forgetting was proving to get harder and harder.

Right and left her classmates were getting married. They showed Samantha baby pictures, gushing about how cute those little feet were and how pretty those blue eyes were-

_He looks just like you._

It killed her. She wanted to talk about Alfred, boast about his blue eyes and how he looked so much like her. She wanted to walk down the sidewalk with Arthur, not by herself. She wanted to live with them instead of her awful, loud roommate who snored and took too long in the bloody shower and watched WWE wrestling on full blast while she tried to study.

She missed them, alright. And she felt like the scum of the earth for pushing them away.

Once she had finished her semester, Samantha went looking for Arthur. She figured he would have moved far away from Heta, so she Googled "Arthur Kirkland" for every state. There were over fifty notable Arthur Kirkland's in New York alone. Apparently it was as common a name as "Jones" was a surname. But she looked nonetheless. For year Samantha had searched for them, meeting nearly every Arthur Kirkland across America.

Samantha only hoped Arthur hadn't gone back to England. If he had, Samantha was sure she would personally hunt him down and chain him to the American soil so he wouldn't waste another chunk of her life away. Bloody England was too freaking far for her to look.

Finally, twelve years after she had left them, Samantha went to investigate the Arthur Kirkland living in Heta. This one was a lawyer working for one of the local firms in town. Apparently he wasn't very popular as a lawyer, because there were only a handful of his cases she could research. By this time, Samantha was well sick and tired of looking for them. Resolving to settle down and live peacefully in her old hometown, Samantha got herself a house and opened her own restaurant in the building of an old bistro that had gone out of business long ago. It was a small place that never got much business, but she loved it nonetheless.

When the restaurant went bankrupt and out of business shortly before Thanksgiving, Samantha exploded. She was _beyond _exhausted over looking for Arthur so bloody long, she was _beyond _furious at losing her business, and most of all she was absolutely fed up of fruitlessly trying to imagine the child she had lost.

He was almost fourteen, now! Fourteen-years-old, and had never seen his mother. Samantha longed to see him just once; to look into those beautiful eyes and see the sky. She wanted to tell him she was _wrong _and that she had missed him so much that it hurt to even think of her idiocy on that day.

Samantha went out drinking that day, against Mrs. Dubose's advisory. She, in her drunken stupor, had found the address of Heta's Arthur Kirkland in her purse and stupidly marched to his home.

Not caring in the least if it was truly _her _Arthur or not, she demanded to see Alfred. In her haze she didn't realize that it, in fact, was the man she had spent nearly fourteen years looking for until after he yelled at her.

_But, if there _is _a shred of remorse for your actions fourteen years ago, I must regretfully say that _no_, Alfred and I _do not _forgive you and your bloody selfish attitude._

It was him. It was Arthur- it was Arthur, her husband, the boy she had teased mercilessly alongside Francis when they were children, the boy in middle school she defended when he got into a fight with his older brother, the boy in high school she had went to prom with on a whim and later realized it had been the best night of her life, the man that had proposed to her on the day of their college graduation together.

_Arthur_.

The Arthur she had spent so long looking for, when he was _right under her nose._ She was so angry, and her drunken state only worsened her fury. On the other side of town from her, all this time! _All this time!_

"You stupid man! I hate you, Arthur!" she had screamed. She shoved him away from her and dropped to her knees, sobbing.

She did not hate him. She had never hated him! All those fourteen years, amidst her complaining and nagging, she had _loved _him. She had loved him as much as she missed Alfred now. It was out of love that she had dedicated her life to finding him.

She cried there at his door, hating herself more than ever before. She told him that she didn't mean what she had said- that she loved him, never hated him- but her words were slurred and thick from crying. He couldn't have heard her.

Mrs. Dubose came then. With her gnarled, angelic hands, she picked Samantha off of the floor and wordlessly took her out to her car. She drove her back home with no complaints.

Samantha stared out at the kids playing in the snow as they drove past the complex, wondering if one of them could have been Alfred. But when she saw it was Francis Bonnefoy- oh, how he looked just like he had so long ago!- Samantha assumed the boys were his sons. Samantha smiled at them through the new tears that poured over her cheeks, hoping that he and Jeanne were still were just as happy as they had been so long ago.

But most of all, she hoped they didn't remember her.

((((()))))

"Thank you, dear," Mrs. Dubose warmly said. The old woman turned away and headed to her bedroom. She brought back a scarf and a smile.

Before Samantha could protest, Mrs. Dubose threw the warm aubergine wool over her shoulders and wrapped it around her neck. She stepped back to admire her work. Satisfied, she said, "I'm going to spend this month with my grandson for Christmas. This is my present for you."

Samantha frowned, fingering the gift that had probably taken so long to construct with Mrs. Dubose's arthritis-ridden hands. "Why didn't you tell me you were leaving sooner? I don't have anything to give to you."

"I don't need anything," the old woman shrugged, opening the front door. She was completely unfazed by the cold rushing inside her house. "Instead, I want you to do me a favor."

"And that is?"

"Stand outside until something happens."

Then Mrs. Dubose slammed the door in her face.

This was about the time Samantha heard an old corvette splutter up the road. It drove slowly, probably because of the slush still on the road. Samantha saw the car was packed with passengers. The driver was a blonde man with choppy, awful-looking hair. He was talking to the person beside him in the passenger seat, who Samantha couldn't quite see.

The tanned boy in the back seat suddenly shivered and said something, causing the driver to shake his head and gesture to the controls. Probably talking about the heat. The man turned back, the grin evident on his face. His eyes flicked to the left.

His smile faded in an instant. He slammed on the brakes.

Samantha's open gape met Arthur Kirkland's emerald eyes. They stared in horror at each other for a moment before a boy leaned over to take a look at what had caused Arthur to act in such a way. Arthur took off quickly, allowing him no time to see her. Before they left, speeding down the road, Samantha could have sworn she had seen bright, sky blue eyes behind the boy's glasses.

The same eyes she remembered Alfred to have had.

Her breath froze in her throat and she felt the color drain from her face.

Alfred. That had been Alfred sitting beside Arthur. Her son. Her _son._

Samantha blindly took off running. "Come back!" she shouted. "Please, Arthur, stop! Come BACK!" Ignoring the sting of the cold on her face, she ran as fast as she could, oblivious to every near slip she encountered on the frozen asphalt. Her shouts became hoarse all too soon and her feet were slowly going numb. When the numbness reached through her blue jeans to her legs, Samantha finally stopped, hands on her knees. She was panting for breath.

"Really, Kirkland?" she burst to the empty street. He was long gone. "Just look at me like that and drive away? Where is your bloody gentleman act now?"

She let out a frustrated scream, causing everyone in the neighborhood to rush to their front windows and look out at the commotion. Samantha resisted the urge to turn and show them a very unlady like gesture, instead taking off running once more. She could follow their tracks through the slush. Samantha _would _see Alfred. She had to! There was no doubt that boy had been her son!

Running while looking at the ground did not prove to be a safe, effective way of hunting down her ex-husband and son, Samantha soon learned.

No sooner had she heard the squeal of brakes had the plush white mustang with red stripes stopped right in front of her. The boy, who definitely did _not _look old enough to be driving said vehicle, had green eyes that were wide in terror. Pin straight blonde hair that just brushed his shoulders was slightly frizzing in the cold air. He and Samantha stared at each other incredulously. The boy rolled down the window and popped his head out.

"Like, you know you're in the middle of the road, right?" he asked with a heavy Polish accent.

Samantha narrowed her eyes critically. "And you look way too young to be driving such an expensive vehicle."

He shut his mouth. The blonde rolled up his window and backed into a nearly straight parking spot beside the sidewalk. He grabbed a coat in the passenger seat beside him and stepped out of the car. "Um, you may want to put this on," he offered, handing her the jacket. "It's, like, -12 degrees out here. Ah! Wait a minute, that's Celsius. Stupid America and your totes weird units of measurement…."

She wasted no time in accepting the coat. Even if it wasn't, it sure felt like it was -12 degrees outside in just a sweater and jeans. "Thank you. I'm Samantha Jones."

The blonde smiled, putting his hands on his narrow, nearly nonexistent hips. "My name's Anelie Kowalski. So, like, where're you going? I'll take you there. I'm practicing my driving anyway so I can, like, hurry and get my license. Besides, I have time to kill."

"You realize I'm a stranger, who you probably assume is insane for running at breakneck speed in the middle of the road, and that you have just offered to let me get into your car with you," Samantha checked, wondering if _he _was the insane one instead of her. And with that girly name, she really believed it. Then again, maybe he was, with all the attention he was suddenly paying to his hair. Anelie's frown deepened when he held out a strand of his hair to find it frizzed.

His face melted into one of horror. "My hair!" he burst. "Get in the car, like, _now_. The weather is getting to _your _hair too. Ugh, I can't believe how humid it is out here! Like, _hurry_, Samantha!"

Anelie was half hyperventilating by the time he reached the safe confines of his mustang. He pulled down the dashboard to examine that damage done to his hair. Letting out an aghast whine, he grabbed a brush that had seeming come out of nowhere and started combing like the wind. Samantha decided that a crazy fourteen-year-old boy with hair issues couldn't further mess up her life, so she complied to his wishes and got in the car.

After apparently taming his hair to its original state, Feliks smiled and turned back to her. "Alright! Like, where to?"

"Um… could you possibly follow these tracks? I need to speak to the man who was driving the car," Samantha asked quietly, realizing _she _was the one who sounded crazy now.

Anelie smiled and complied, putting the car in gear with ease, like he had been driving for quite a while now. He made polite conversation, talking about how he loved her pretty, straight hair, for quite a while. Samantha toned most of it out, focusing on seeing Alfred's face again. She didn't care if Arthur would have a panic attack or not, she wanted to see her son.

Samantha at first hadn't noticed Anelie had gone silent until the car started slowing down. Confused, Samantha turned to look at Anelie. The blonde's face had gone blank, hands slack and on his lap. Right as Samantha poised to ask if he was alright, Anelie blinked rapidly, shaking his head. He dazedly narrowed his eyes in confusion, at first looking out at the road before him, then at his hands, then, finally, at Samantha.

His eyes went wide in terror. "Ahh!" he screamed, cuing Samantha to scream back in compliance. "_Kim jesteś? Co ty tu robisz? Co ja tu robię?_"

Frightened Polish spewed from his mouth. Anelie's hands were shaking, eyes darting around him rapidly, trying to make sense of what was going on and not getting an answer.

"Hey hey hey!" Samantha burst, quickly putting the car into park before he went wild and crashed them. "Calm down! What's wrong?"

"_Kim jesteś_?" he repeated, voice rising into a higher octave of horror. "_KIM JESTEŚ_?"

"I DON'T SPEAK POLISH!"

Anelie flinched back, tears welling up in his eyes. He instantly stopped his blathering and just broke down into fearful tears. Samantha flinched back as well, aghast at reducing him to a state. "I-I'm sorry, I didn't mean to yell," she apologized in a much quieter, more comforting voice. Anelie pulled back when Samantha reached out to smooth down his hair.

He swallowed hard before shakily asking in English, "Who are you?"

Samantha blinked. "I… just told you a minute ago. I'm Samantha. You offered me a ride and-"

"Why are you wearing my _kuzyn_'s jacket?" he demanded with more of a voice. His tears dried up in an instant with this newfound courage. "Take it off right now! I got him that, like, for Christmas!"

She obeyed, and he reverted back to his sheepish, frightened demeanor, watching her carefully, as if she were some kind of crazed ax murderer that had kidnapped him. Samantha sighed. "Anelie, you stopped just down the street and-"

"My name is not Anelie," he said in a low, hollow voice.

Samantha looked up in alarm. He had a faraway look in his eyes, making him cringe, like a bad memory had just shadowed his mind. "My name's not Anelie. My name is Feliks Łukasiewicz."

**Translations-**

**Polish-**

_**Kuzyn- cousin**_

_**Kim jesteś? Co ty tu robisz? Co ja tu robię?- Who are you? What are you doing here? What am I doing here?**_

_**Kim jesteś- Who are you?**_


	19. Chapter 19

**It's true that you have to be eighteen in Poland to drive. I actually Googled it (along with all the Polish names and that Doda really WAS going to tour in Torun, 'cause I'm a loser like that), and I really feel sorry for you Polish guys. Driving is fun, let me tell you, and I just got my learners back in August. 40 HOURS TO PUT IN AND FOUR MONTHS UNTIL I GET MY LICENSE, BABY!**

**Ahem. Enjoy your chapter. Because I really enjoyed writing Feliks. :D**

***By the way, I know Halloween is over, but I could not resist. My little sister showed me her Halloween story while I was working on this chapter, and with Tavian here… I'm sorry. Anyway, Feliks's Halloween story was written by my little sister. I just replaced "my sister" with "my cousin" to fit Feliks's point of view. Everything else is completely her, people, used with her permission.**

**Chapter 19-**

"THAT WAS, LIKE, THE BEST CONCERT EVER!"

Anelie Kowalski whooped in approval, flinging her and Feliks's hands up in the air. "We totally have to go to Doda's next concert- it's in Torun next week, right?"

Feliks skipped down the sidewalk, his path lightened by Warsaw's streetlamps and the headlights of cars. Snow fell down in light wisps, but Feliks and Anelie weren't affected in the least. Poland was not a warm place, but one easily forgot about things like that when amazing best friends were near and Doda was traveling the country. The blonde was still humming Nie Daj Się under his breath. Anelie quickly caught on, and in no time, their howling laughter could be heard echoing through the lonely alleyways of Warsaw.

It was well into the early hours of the morning, what with Feliks and Anelie having stayed as late as possible with Doda and their premium backstage passes. The tickets alone had taken Feliks and Anelie two months of babysitting Feliks's five-year-old neighbor Celestynka and her seven or so siblings. Well, she had two little brothers, Dobry and Jochym, respectively three-years-old and two-years-old; but when two teenagers who were barely fourteen and seventeen were pitted against this vile toddler trio, it felt like they were up against an army.

Of course, the little angels were as well-behaved as possible when their parents came home from work. When Feliks and Anelie left the Szajner's, they were thoroughly convinced neither would ever have children. Maybe it was biased to base every child after the demon children of the Szajner family, but Feliks frankly couldn't care less after the night Dobry slung apple sauce in his hair.

That was now forever scarred in his mind.

But their hard work had paid off; they had gotten their tickets and backstage passes, met Doda, fainted upon meeting said superstar, and later had to be wheeled out of the building because Feliks was not waking up.

Anelie, who was seventeen and had her learner's permit, was going to drive them home. It didn't matter if it was four in the morning and there wasn't a responsible adult (as if Feliks and Anelie knew any of them). They were still in awe of the concert of their dreams to care about silly rules like that.

Anelie had parked quite a ways from the concert building, wanting to walk around and catch the air of the city before their journey back home to Pruszkow. Even though they were just miles from Warsaw, it wasn't every day Anelie and Feliks could hang out and walk around in the city. No, pesky school and babysitting kept them locked away at home.

One day, Feliks swore they would go to every mall in Warsaw and shop until they had the entire country in bankruptcy, like those crazy Americans.

And that reminded Feliks.

The blonde cast a sobered look to Anelie, still singing off-key to Dziękuję. One more month, and he'd be leaving his totes awesome Poland for smelly America to hang around his cousin and lame family. Feliks hated Christmas with his American family every other year. His grandma always burnt the turkey, so they would end up ordering Chinese from the local Red Flower. Grandpa Łukasiewicz would always confuse him for his cousin Henry, Tavian would hole himself up in the corner of the living room reading horror stories all night, and his parents would shove him in the middle of the room and attempt to make him sing Christmas carols with them.

Feliks did not like America. There was their totes weird measurements and greasy fast food. They had no taste in music- Tavian, last time Feliks had spent the holidays with them, hadn't ever heard of Doda or Kayah! Feliks had nearly had a mental breakdown that year.

"Hey, like, what's wrong, Feliks?" Anelie's face was suddenly before him, mascara-laden eyes blinking at his nose. If anyone else had so suddenly invaded his personal bubble Feliks would have died right there. But this was _Anelie_. The only other person who had ever reached the rank of Best Friend to Feliks besides Toris Lorinaitis, whom he hadn't seen since the third grade. A strand of her cherry blonde hair fell out of place, landing in her face. Anelie irritably blew it away and tucked it back behind her ear before throwing an arm around Feliks's shoulders. "Feliks, Torun. Only one week to go. Plus, I'll have birthday money, so we don't have to baby sit the Devil's spawn anymore."

He cracked a smile for her sake. He hadn't told her yet that he'd be leaving for America at the beginning of December, making him miss her birthday. This only further soured his misgivings against America.

However, before December came, Feliks swore he would make up for missing Anelie's birthday. He wasn't sure how, yet, but it was going to involve lots of pink and more than a few ponies.

Anelie was going to love it and-

"Hey, kids, what are you doing here?"

Feliks and Anelie ceased their singing. The hectic, busy streets of Warsaw seemed miles away from the darker side they had unknowingly wandered into. Sleazy, dirty, thin men and women were crowded together in the recesses of the alley beside them. Anelie's protective instincts kicked in as she pushed Feliks behind her. "Passing by," she said with a smile. The fear that made her heart beat so loud Feliks could hear it could not be found on her face. Anelie was the very opposite of Feliks when it came to courage. Not to say Feliks couldn't stand up for himself, it was just that… he could not _stand _strangers. He wasn't sure what had given him his phobia, but he was paranoid all the same.

These people were going hurt them. Do nasty things to them, because they were just two kids walking on the streets alone in the city, in the dark, with no one to keep them safe from strange people in an alley.

Anelie waved cheerfully to them and resumed their stroll like it was nothing. "Druggies," she whispered to him. "Probably, like, high out of their minds."

Feliks visibly relaxed when no one made a move after them.

Then, they heard the sound of a gun clicking off its safety.

"You kids don't need to be walking around like this," one of the men advised. He walked up behind them, lazily swinging his gun on his finger. Feliks stiffened when his hand touched his shoulder. The blonde could see his veins through his scrawny arms, could literally feel the dirt under the man's fingernails dirtying up his concert T-shirt. "How about you come stay with us a while? Two pretty girls like yourselves-"

Suddenly, the man narrowed his eyes. He yanked Feliks back, scanning his face. "Wait a minute, you're not a girl. Got pretty hair, though. Don't worry, you can come too."

"We're, like, meeting up with my father," Anelie lied easily. "He's waiting for us at the corner of the block."

The man didn't buy it. With a sudden fit of rage, he grabbed Anelie's hair and pushed her towards the alley. "Shut up!" he yelled, waving his gun in her direction. "You saw us! You can't go now!"

"I don't know what you're talking about," Anelie cried helplessly. Still a perfect actor. "Please, we were just walking by, we didn't mean to disturb you, we were-"

Feliks flinched back at the shot. He dropped to his knees at the scream. "_Policja! Policja!_" Anelie screamed, clutching her arm.

People on the street were stopping now, looking back in fearful curiosity.

They walked on. Anelie writhed, holding her arm, crying. No one paid any mind. Just another mugging, probably, on the streets of Warsaw. That, or some of the local dealers got into an argument. Nothing out of the ordinary; nothing they should concern themselves with.

The man cursed. Determined not to miss, he focused hard, lining the gun up as well as he could, fighting against the haze in his mind. This brat had to shut up. Couldn't let her yap to the _Policja_ and disband their little group.

Anelie's frightened eyes met Felik's, both of them stuttering out tears that reflected a single thought: _We're going to die._

Feliks's breath hitched. No. No no no. _No!_ Anelie… her birthday… he had to do something special for her. He… he had to….

He had to get to his feet. With an unknown courage bubbling within his chest, Feliks jumped up. "Don't hurt her!" he yelled, tackling the man.

_Anelie isn't afraid of anything. Anelie would have done this for me. Anelie's happy now._

"Get off of me, stupid kid!" the man snarled, swinging his skinny arm out. He hit Feliks in the jaw, but that only proved to make the blonde angrier.

More and more people were stopping now. Feliks heard someone calling 911, a few whistles to cheer him on, someone finally rushing up to Anelie to help her. The man fired wildly to the sky. He shoved Feliks off of him. The boy landed hard, the snow too thin to cushion the blow against the hard sidewalk.

Civilians lunged to stop the man, but they moved to slow. Feliks jumped back up to his feet, but the bullet was already buzzing by, splitting through the air. He screamed and reach out for Anelie, but she was already shot.

Her eyes fluttered shut.

The man swung his arm down, gaining strength with the momentum of his swing. The butt of the gun connected with Feliks's head, sending him crumbling back to the ground.

Everything in his head was numb, his vision blurred. But he could still see the dark red blossoming out on her shirt, darkening the picture of Doda and the concert date. It was the same shirt he was wearing. Pain erupted in his head, drawing his hand back from her. It hurt _so bad_. But not as bad as the bullet had to have hurt Anelie. It must have hurt so much- so much like he was hurting.

He had stood up to him. He had had Anelie's courage. For once in his life, he had finally been like Anelie.

People were in a frenzy, shouting out for help. They were running all around him, picking him up out of the snow, demanding that he speak to them. Feliks didn't speak to them. Anelie couldn't talk anymore. She wouldn't ever be able to speak again.

Anelie was dead.

Feliks felt a cold wave wash over his mind, clearing out everything. His vision went black, the sounds of the crowd around him melted into nothing.

_Nie daj się, warto być zawsze tylko sobą._

Anelie loved that song.

((((()))))

"Hey… Feliks? This is the right coffee shop, isn't it? Your cousin is here?"

Feliks snapped to attention, pulling his mind out of his reverie. The blonde rubbed his eyes and looked out the windshield. This was Tavian's old, nearly run down coffee shop, alright. "_Tak._ Sorry, I mean, yes," he sighed in relief. He totally hadn't meant to zone out like that while Samantha was driving him to who-knows-where. Seeing that she had kept to her word made him want to hug her. But he didn't, because that would be totes weird.

He grabbed Tavian's coat and got his keys from Samantha. Oh, Tavian was going to absolutely _murder _him for taking his car. Although, in his defense, he had thought himself to be his dead best friend.

At first, he didn't want to believe Samantha. He was not crazy. He was as normal as normal could get. There was nothing wrong with him- aside from the times he would blink and suddenly find himself in a completely different place, with his parents staring at him like he had three heads-

Okay. So maybe he was just a little crazy.

But no one had bothered to tell him he thought himself to be _Anelie?_ His parents shipped him off to America, _on his own_, knowing that he was crazy? Obviously, they had to be crazy, too. Crazy like old Grandpa Łukasiewicz, always confusing him for Henry, his other weird cousin living it up in Seattle with that annoying, freaking _huge _Malamute he brought to Heta with him each year.

Feliks braced himself when they walked into the nearly-empty coffee shop. Tavian thankfully didn't notice them at first, busy talking and laughing with a well-endowed woman. Feliks could _not _look away, despite his best attempts. There was no way those were real-

Out of the corner of his eye, Feliks saw a boy with dull brown hair suddenly perk up. The boy narrowed his eyes in disdain. "Like, what are you looking at, weirdo?" Feliks snapped.

Tavian and the woman stopped to look at the brewing fight.

Ivan Braginski strode over, crossing the shop in less than four steps. "You're Feliks Łukasiewicz," he instantly recognized. "You were the one who stole my report on Abraham Lincoln in third grade and colored all over it in crayon!"

Oh. _Him._ A wide smile spread out on Felik's face. "Little Ivan Braginski! The last time I saw you, you were crying like a baby on the playground because I beat you to the swings!"

"And then I pushed you out of the swing," Ivan fondly remembered, a smile breaking out on his face as well, "and into the mud. Then _you _were the little baby crying because you got dirty."

"ARE THOSE MY KEYS?"

Feliks flinched at his cousin's unearthly roar. Tavian's eyes flared up dangerously. "That Mustang," he seethed, easily hopping over the counter instead of exiting the proper way, "cost exactly $17,000. Do you know how _long _it took to save up that much money? How many wonderfully delicious horror novels I had to give up to save money for that Mustang? DO YOU?"

"I took it."

Attention was turned on Samantha. She smiled pleasantly at Tavian, whose rage was turning scarier and scarier by the second. The woman was completely unfazed. "I'm an amazing car thief," she said sarcastically. "Nicked the keys you had carelessly thrown and around and took it out for a spin. Then I saw your cousin had caught me, so I brought him and the car back. Happy?"

Tavian looked at her for a moment, slightly gaping. "Are you _insane_, lady?"

_I am,_ Feliks miserably thought. He opened his mouth for the truth, but Samantha was having too much fun with this. "I don't think so," she answered. "But sometimes, I do wonder, yes. Anyway, no harm done, not a scratch on your pretty ride, and Feliks found your jacket for you. Now, if you will excuse me, I have to go."

"Wait a minute, you're _not _leaving." Tavian caught her arm and pulled her back. "Feliks, explain before I call the loony bin and have your friend here committed."

The blonde irritably flashed his emerald eyes up to meet Ivan's purple ones. "Like, you're dismissed, Braginski."

Instead of leaving, Ivan flashed him a lovely white smile. "I think I will stay," he cheerfully decided, sitting in a nearby chair. Natalya rejoined him, glaring furiously at Feliks. The dark look went completely over his head. Feliks had way too many things to worry about than Ivan's PMSing little sister. And really, he thought her little glares to be kind of cute.

"I… um… _Kuzyn, _I think I'm crazy."

_Hmm, that, like, came out easier than I thought._

((((()))))

"You came!"

Alfred shoved past Lovino and Matthew, smiling widely at Lili. "'Course we came! How are you feeling?"

The small girl grinned. "Better. Thank you, Alfred. I'm glad you came too, Matthew, and that you made it home safe, Lovino."

A blush flashed on the boys' faces. Lovino coughed nervously. "Um, yeah. I brought my brother and-"

Feliciano had already bounced forward to Lili's side. "You're very pretty," he smoothly complimented, winking for added effect. The boy bowed elegantly and took her hand. "I'm Feliciano," he introduced before kissing her hand. "But you can call me Feli, if you'd like."

Lili was at a loss for words, her eyes wide and mouth slightly agape. Lovino and Alfred mirrored her look, while Matthew, once again, was thankful Francis wasn't here to egg things on. Feliciano met their stares with a confused frown. "What? I just said hello."

A strangled sound came forth out of Lovino's mouth, turning his face bright red. Feliciano's frown turned into an outright pout. "I didn't do anything wrong! That's how _Nonno _taught me how to introduce myself to a lady!"

"TIENES DIEZ AÑOS!" Lovino finally burst. "_DIEZ AÑOS!_"

"Calm down, Lovino, before the hospital staff kicks us out!"

Matthew's quiet admonition went by unnoticed. With a sigh and a face palm, he merely gave up and sat at the foot of the empty bed beside Lili's. The way everyone just _ignored _him like that was really beginning to grate on his nerves. But Matthew let it slide, dropping his chin into the palms of his hands.

"Geez!" Lovino continued, back to English. "That's… that's…!"

A twinkling, quiet laugh cut him short. Lili covered her mouth to try and quell her giggles, but it wasn't helping much. When she finally got the laughter under control, she smiled. "Thank you, everyone. I really needed the laugh. Feliciano, I think you're a perfect gentleman," she told the beaming ten-year-old.

With things now under control, Alfred burst into the lengthy tale about their time snowed in at Tavian's coffee shop, the one, yes, behind the school. Alfred conveniently left out all the good parts where he screamed like a little girl. However, Feliciano made up for his mistakes, describing in great detail every second of the story. With their combined enthusiasm, it was hard to keep laughter from echoing from the room. Arthur popped his head it once when Alfred had fell back against the wall laughing so hard. Seeing everyone could still breathe to an extent, he went back to talking with Zira outside.

A good hour had passed, the sun already beginning to set, but inside room 213 it felt as though ten minutes hadn't even passed. With Arthur stepped in to tell them it was almost time to go, Feliciano was still chattering away happily to Lili. The Italian had already proclaimed Lili to be one of his best friends, and promised to come see her one more time before he left for Massachusetts in two days.

"Arthur, before we go, can I get something for Lili downstairs?" Feliciano asked. "I can get you a teddy bear, Lili!"

Matthew watched as Alfred's face slowly went blank. He remembered himself, barely. This was the hospital they had been at ten years ago. Downstairs was the same gift shop where Alfred and Gilbert had found Matthew's bear. The nostalgia hit him full force. He blurrily remembered the soft French Francis had spoke to him, telling him that his mother was gone and not coming back. He remembered playing with Alfred, smiling fondly at Arthur while they waited for Antonio to come back the next day. He remembered… hanging on to that bear. That bear, whose name he could never decide on, that was the one constant in his life after that. If he had that bear close to him at all times, he would never see it go. Not like Jeanne, not like Francis when he left for work, not like Alfred when he didn't pay attention to him and instead looked after his father.

"I'll help you pay for it," Matthew kindly said with a smile quirked on his face. At Arthur's okay, Matthew and Feliciano, hopping excitedly, said their goodbyes and left for downstairs.

"I got a polar bear from here, once," Matthew fondly said. With every bit of Feliciano's attention span directed at him, Matthew continued. "I broke my arm when I was little, and ended up here for a day. Um, it was at the wreck. So… while everyone was waiting for Arthur, Alfred and Gilbert went downstairs and bought me a polar bear. I still have it, too."

"Cool! Can I see it when we go back?"

He grinned and nodded.

Feliciano mirrored his smile. "_Nonno _got me a teddy bear once. Actually, Marco got it for him to get brownie points with _Mamma_. But when Marco left, _Nonno _gave it to me. That was when he was in the hospital the first time. I promised I'd never lose it. It's on my bed at my house."

"That's nice. Take good care of it, okay?"

"I will!"

When Feliciano caught sight of the gift shop, he took off running towards it. "Matthew, hurry! I think I see a stuffed flying squirrel!"

…_A stuffed flying squirrel?_

((((()))))

Shortly after Feliks and Samantha had arrived at the coffee shop had the evening rush hour appeared, and Feliks had suddenly grown apprehensive to everyone in the building. Tavian knew his cousin well enough to know that he did not do well with strangers.

In order to keep the peace between her siblings and Feliks, Katyusha quickly made her leave, saying that she'd see Tavian again tomorrow. Meanwhile, Tavian had a problem. He also knew that Feliks had the shortest attention span he had ever seen someone have, and that if he was to be left alone to his own devices, bad things would likely befall Tavian's workplace. Tavian had tons of things he could do to keep Feliks entertained for a while, but then another problem arose: there was no one else present to take over the shop for a moment.

No one but Samantha.

For whatever reason, the woman had stayed behind to make sure Feliks was alright. Even though she looked terribly bothered about something else, she had faithfully stood by, politely asking every now and then if Feliks was still himself. She had been sitting in the corner of the room, in the very spot those kids from the high school had been, sipping at her cinnamon coffee for well over an hour now. It was like she was just _waiting _for Tavian to ask her to help, despite her being a stranger. Before now, Tavian had never heard of this so-called Samantha Jones, although she claimed to live just down the street.

But Feliks was already poking around in the back of the store, no doubt messing up bills and Tavian's books.

With a sigh, he quickly waved Samantha over. "I'll watch the coffee," she said with a triumphant grin. "You take care of Feliks."

"You know, Feliks, I think I might have something to keep you entertained until I get off my shift," Tavian grinned wickedly, turning back to him. After Samantha nodded her okay, that she had things up front under control, Tavian led his cousin out to his car. He poked his head in and rummaged through the glove box before letting at an "Aha!". "Here you are! I still have it from when you gave it to me at Halloween when you were a kid. I read it and I laugh."

"I bet you do," Feliks sighed, putting on his best disinterested face to hide the smile inching forth. If Tavian had kept something of his for this long, it had to be good. The blonde ripped it from his hands and began scanning the familiar loopy scrip he'd had in third grade.

_I was home alone at midnight, October 31, because my parents and aunt and uncle and cousin Tavian were at a Halloween party for 13 year olds and up. I had just finished reading one of Tavian's murder mysteries when I heard sounds coming from the basement._

_I heard things being bumped, loud footsteps, and my name being called by a deep voice. I was thinking Who could be in my basement, Why are they here, and What am I going to do! Suddenly I heard the basement stairs creaking._

_I was so afraid that I was shaking like a cold Chihuahua. I was going to call 911, but I got a sudden burst of courage, so I grabbed my hard, metal baseball bat and headed to the basement to find what was making those scary sounds._

_When I was at the basement door about to open it, Tavian opened the door very hard and I fell to the ground. I was so relieved. It was Tavian and my family. I was in pain because my cousin broke my nose with the door and I had to go to the hospital. I will never forget when my cousin broke my nose and I will never stay home alone again._

_The End._

"Gold, isn't it? I had no idea you loved me that much, Feliks."

"Like, shut up," he grinned, rereading it a second time. Feliks didn't remember writing this, but he had to agree it _was _hilarious.

Tavian looked back inside to see Samantha fixing up drinks like she had been doing it for years. But not only that, she reminded him a bit of Alfred. They had the same blue eyes and wide smile. Much to his disdain, they even had the same boisterous laugh. Tavian sort of missed those kids, really. He hoped they would start coming back in the mornings to keep him company like last time.

If he had been alone in the dark like that, it would have majorly sucked. Speaking of that day, he had to tell Feliks about all the drama they'd let him know. With Tavian Lupei and Feliks Łukasiewicz on the job, they could sort everything out. Or at least make a bigger mess of things, like with Eduard von Brock and his little brother Raivis, but Tavian didn't like to think much on that fiasco.

A wicked smile spread out on Tavian's face. "You know, Feliks, I think we have a job to do."

Feliks looked up with a light in his eyes. "Like, one of _those _jobs?"

"Oh, yeah."

**Translations**

**Polish-**

_**Policja- police**_

_**Nie daj się, warto być zawsze tylko sobą.- Don't give up, it's always worth it to be yourself.**_

_**Tak- yes**_

_**Kuzyn- cousin**_

**Spanish-**

_**Tienes diez años! Diez años!- You're ten-years-old! Ten years!**_


	20. Chapter 20

**I promise this is the last of those deep dark depressing situations. For real, this time. This marks the beginning of a "part two" of sorts, where things finally start connecting and things get explained.**

**Also, I'd like to ask you guys to pray for my uncle. He has bone cancer, and we heard today that he has four weeks. Just pray that God's will be done.**

**Chapter 20-**

The beginning of the worst night of Ivan Braginski's life began the instant Morozko arrived home from work.

"Welcome home, Morozko!" Natasha warmly greeted him as he wearily dragged himself into the kitchen.

He didn't reply, as Ivan's father was wont to do, but sat himself down at the dining table. The smell of stale beer and cigarette smoke wafted off him, making Ivan have to resist the urge to crinkle his nose and move to the living room. "What are you working on, Ivan?" Morozko asked sluggishly with a slight slur to his words.

Of course, he had been out drinking. "I'm finishing up my homework," the tall boy replied softly, not looking up from his textbook. Ivan didn't want to see his bloodshot eyes looking at him.

With a patience Ivan had never been able to understand, Natasha smiled and laid a plate of microwaved food in front of Morozko. They had finished their dinner well over an hour ago, but Natasha had faithfully put Morozko's meal back in the fridge for when he came home. She did this nearly every day, and never complained when Morozko did not thank her for this. Ivan was amazed, to say the least, of his mother.

Finally noticing something was amiss at the table, Morozko asked, "Where is Natalya?"

"She was feeling unwell and went to bed," Natasha faithfully reported. "She finished her homework already, took some Tylenol for her headache, and went to her room."

Actually, Natalya had gotten a new CD and was probably listening to it as they spoke below. Ivan didn't say a word to this. He wasn't really doing his homework, either. He was filling out the form to play hockey. Ivan had thought long and hard about it, and when the tryouts had been postponed, he took it as a sign and steeled his resolve. Katyusha would back him up and, after hearing about the tutoring session between Mattie's friends from his sister, Ivan figured he could use that as an alibi. After all, he was being a good student, helping stupid kids like Alfred, da?

Instead of Morozko commencing to eat his dinner in stony silence as usual, he narrowed his eyes across the table to Ivan. "What are you working on, Ivan?" he repeated in the same gruff voice as before. He must have forgotten he had just asked him that. Morozko had a tendency to be forgetful after an afternoon of drinking. Ivan repeated himself.

"What _subject_?"

"…Math." Ivan's mouth went dry when he suddenly had his father's amnesia and couldn't remember if he was using his Calculus book as a ploy or if it was his Chemistry book. He hoped Morozko would not know the difference from the blue color of the binding; Ivan had covered the pages with sheets of written-on paper to hide the book's contents.

Morozko's natural grimace pulled down at the edges into a frown, but he didn't press the subject, instead focusing on his meal.

It wasn't like Morozko to be distrustful of Ivan. But then again, he usually didn't come home quite as late as this. It was almost nearing nine o'clock. Most afternoons Morozko came home before seven, in time for dinner or at least during dinner. To smell so strongly of alcohol meant Morozko had had a bad day.

Ivan suddenly felt exhausted. He could lie too, like Natalya had, claiming to feel unwell and head off to bed where he could practice forging his parents' signatures. He wished Katyusha could sign for him- she would be all too eager to do so- but the pesky paper said only guardians' signatures would be permitted.

Once again, cutting through the peacefully quiet clanking of Natasha washing dishes in the sink, Morozko spoke again. "Let me see your homework, Ivan."

The boy sharply snapped his head up. "…What?"

"Your homework. Give it here."

Ivan numbly looked down at his sheet. Covering his book were history notes and an English test from last week that he'd been handed back today. There was no math anywhere he could supply his father with.

He helplessly looked up.

With a snarl, Morozko jumped to his feet. Ivan's breath caught in his throat. "You ugly little liar," Morozko accused. He reached across the table, knocking over his half-filled bottle of vodka in the process, and grabbed the try-out sheet. "Hockey? I told you it was worthless!"

He angry shout echoed through the house. Natasha had ceased her chore, turning to look with wide, frightened eyes.

Ivan also stood. He was taller than his father, but build did nothing to quell his fear. "I've done everything you've asked of me, Father. I think I deserve to-"

"You don't deserve anything!" he yelled, slamming his fist on the table. His bottle rolled off into the floor, shattering at his feet. The harsh stench of vodka drifted through the room. It nearly choked Ivan, bringing stinging tears to his eyes. Natasha pulled a towel over her mouth and nose, suddenly looking sick.

Ivan heard Natalya bolting off her bed upstairs to come and investigate. He just knew she was standing in the doorway, peeking fearfully through. "You're just like your sister, ruining this family with unrighteous wants! First it'll be this hockey-" he snarled, shredding the paper in two between his bony fingers. "-then it'll be neglecting your work, and failure! Don't you care about anyone but yourself, you selfish child? Who will feed this family after I pass? Or have you forgotten that I work myself nearly to death everyday to put a meal before you? Are you so selfish that you don't care?"

"I do care!" he yelled back, an unknown courage suddenly welling up in him. Ivan stood up straight, finally feeling as tall as he was. "I care enough to know that I don't want my sister and mother around a pitiful drunk like you!"

Morozko's face melded into one of fury. He stalked forward, making Ivan back into the wall in fear, but Morozko walked past him. "Natalya!" he yelled instead, shoving past Ivan.

"Don't touch her!" Ivan burst, grabbing his arm to pull Morozko back. Natalya shrieked when he threw Ivan to the floor and took hold of her wrist. "Stop!"

Morozko headed to the door. "You're just as ungrateful!" he spat. "Lying to your mother and listening to that horrible noise people call music! You've already gone too far! There's no getting you back!"

Ivan heard Natasha sobbing and calling 911 in the kitchen, telling them her husband had finally lost it and her children were in trouble.

_They won't get here in time, _Ivan grimly thought.

He jumped off of the floor and ran after his father and sister. No, the police would get here too late. They lived too far away from the station for them to come and stop Morozko before he did something unexpected and dangerous in his state.

He stomped outside and unlocked the car door. Morozko shoved her in the backseat, barking more degrading comments about how horrible his children were, blaming Katyusha for spoiling their minds. Seeing Ivan trying to pull Natalya out and to safety, Morozko merely pushed him in as well and flicked the child-lock on the door. "You want to be a failure with your sister, Natalya? You can."

They swerved out of their driveway, crashing into someone's trashcan. As they drove off at an unsafe speed, it rolled into the middle of the road.

Natalya was not someone to cry easily. No, Ivan's little sister rarely showed any emotion but annoyance and boredom. But now, she gripped the back of Ivan's hoodie and sobbed into his chest. Her bare shoulders heaved- she was in her pajamas, and had to have been cold. Morozko hadn't bothered to turn on the heat and the car was freezing in the chilly December night. Ivan himself was shivering.

They sat like this for what felt like an eternity, both unbuckled and sliding on every sharp, angry turn Morozko made. He had ceased bad-mouthing them, but his teeth were still clenched, his knuckles bright white gripped around the steering wheel. Ivan held Natalya close to him, resolving to keep her safe if- when- Morozko got them into a wreck. It didn't matter if his life was on the line. He refused to let Natalya get hurt.

After all, it hadn't been the first time Morozko's angry, drunken driving had killed someone.

Ten years ago, on a rainy August afternoon, Morozko had taken Ivan and Katyusha home after a trip to the library. Katyusha had needed to check out a book for her Psychology class, which had began over the summer instead of when school started back. Ivan remembered straying away from Katyusha and Morozko, bored with their searching for the most informative book on Paris Syndrome. He walked over to the section of fairytales, just across the wide room on the other side.

Morozko had been furious that Ivan had wandered off. He had also drank two bottles of vodka on their way to the library.

He was still angry when the storm came and unleashed its fury on the unsuspecting Braginski's. Morozko had calmed himself when he noticed the rain was getting harder, and instead focused on the room rather than berating Ivan. However, he was still drunk, and apparently did not see the pale blue Mustang on the other side of the road, just past the tall wall of rock. Morozko was blinking heavily, Ivan could see through the rearview mirror, like he was suddenly getting sleepy. The man driving the Mustang was smiling at the woman and children in the back of the car through his mirror.

Neither was paying much attention when Morozko slipped into the other lane just a few inches and slammed the corner of their SUV into the Mustang. Ivan had shrieked in fear as Morozko spewed out curse after curse in a crude mix of English and Russian and Katyusha reached back and threw her arm out in front of him, as if thinking that would keep him safe. Morozko successfully swerved out of the way, missing the patch of water that had collected on the road. The other car had not missed the water. Ivan watched with horror as the car spun and slammed into the rock, crunching half of the car in.

He saw a boy his age with light brown hair, one stubborn cowlick at the part in his hair sticking straight up. Morozko also saw the boy. He jumped out of the car and yanked the boy out. Trying to catch his breath, Ivan followed, blocking out the trill of Katyusha calling 911. The boy's eyes were wide and his hands were shaking. His terrorized state struck fear in Ivan. Grabbing the hem of his too-big T-shirt, he called out for Katyusha.

The boy did something unexpected. "Stop!" he yelled, tiny voice thick with tears and worry. "If you're scared, go back to your car!"

Katyusha was instantly at his side, patting his back, combing through his hair, telling him in Russian that it was okay; everything was okay.

Morozko carried out the second little boy. He looked younger than the first, with pale wavy hair that Ivan had thought was beautiful. Despite Morozko and Katyusha's admonitions, Cowlick Boy shakily wiped the trail of blood on the younger's forehead. "_Of course Matthew is hurt!_" he had snapped at Katyusha.

Ivan suddenly blinked, ripped away from his memory.

Matthew.

Matthew Bonnefoy?

Ivan's mouth went dry. That had been _Matthew _and _Alfred_ at that wreck. They had been the little boys! Matthew's mother had died that day; Morozko had crashed into them and _killed Matthew's mother_.

Morozko was the reason Matthew was also so depressed come the beginning of school. Morozko was the reason Francis Bonnefoy had always stressed to Matthew, Alfred, and Lovino to buckle up every time he drove them back home from school.

His father was then reason for everything.

But then again, Morozko wouldn't have been distracted and mad had Ivan not wandered off. If Ivan hadn't invoked Morozko's anger, maybe he would paid attention and not wrecked. Maybe Jeanne wouldn't have died.

Ivan hugged Natalya closer when Morozko finally came to a stop. He looked out the window at the dark suburban street, lips trembling as they turned downward into a frown. "Where are we, Father?" he asked, surprised at the calmness of his voice.

Morozko did not answer. He opened the door on Natalya's side. "Get out," he said coldly. When Natalya didn't move, he pulled her out. She stumbled and fell on the sidewalk, skidding up her hands. It was freezing outside. "Knock on the door and tell your sister you'll be staying with her from now on. Ivan, you're coming with me."

With that, he slammed the door in Ivan's face and got back into the driver's seat. Natalya jumped up and pounded on the window, yelling for Morozko to stop, that he wasn't thinking and was going to get them hurt. He ignored her pleas and floored it. Ivan fell to the floor of the car. He landed on various beer cans and bottles.

"What are you doing?" he burst, quickly sitting up. "You can't leave Natalya out there! She'll freeze!"

"Shut up. Can't you recognize your own sister's house, boy?"

Ivan turned around. Indeed, they had stopped at Katyusha's house. He turned back to Morozko. "Then where are you taking me?"

Morozko didn't answer for a long while. Finally, he said, "Away from this forsaken town. You can take online classes. The people here- they're not the people you should associate yourself with, Ivan. These _people_," he sneered, "were trying to convince you to think of doing something that would not be beneficial to you."

"I was just going to play hockey, Father. There was nothing wrong with-"

"Be quiet!" Morozko roared. "Sit down! Do _not _talk back to me!"

Ivan did as he was told, and did not ask any more questions. Instead, he pulled his knees to his chest and bit his lip as he watched the fleeting scenery outside.

His father had finally lost it. Ivan had no idea where he was going, but he knew that it wouldn't be long before Morozko passed out from his earlier drinking. He prayed they wouldn't be in the car when that happened.

…_This is my fault._

Mnye tak zhal, _Natalya._

((((()))))

"Feliciano, you need to be getting ready for bed!" Antonio called, poking his head into Lovino's room. The two brothers were sitting together, curled up and getting warm under the covers. A smile broke out on his face. "You two are so cute!" the Spaniard gushed.

Lovino put on his best utterly-disgusted face. "I'm fourteen! That's too old to be 'cute', you idiot!" He practically shoved Feliciano out of his bed, then commenced to jump up and slam the door shut on Antonio. Growling under his breath, Lovino returned to his cocoon of blankets.

Feli jumped up with a smile on his face. Even though Lovino stubbornly refused to look at him, still embarrassed from being called "cute", Feliciano reached over and hugged him anyway. "Since I'm going home tomorrow, you stay the night with me again, okay?"

This fact made Lovino's frown deepen. He turned back to Feliciano with a serious look. "Promise me you'll keep away from Marco."

"Lovi, it's not like I follow him around-"

"_Promise me_."

Feliciano looked at his bare feet. Even though he stood on beige carpet, cold was still creeping up on him. The chilly weather had made him feel stiff, and every time he moved it had hurt. But, according to Lovino, the bruises on his back were beginning to fade. If Feliciano was staying another week with Antonio and Lovino he was sure they would be gone by the time he got home.

Aside from when he broke that plate a few days ago, Feliciano hadn't been scared all week. It was almost a foreign feeling to walk around freely without worrying if he did something that would make Marco mad. Surely it had been months since he last had that kind of freedom. But once he got home, Marco would be there with Aria, and he'd have to be extra careful again. He couldn't just promise to avoid Marco when the man practically lived at his house. Marco helped Aria and Feliciano cook, and sometimes tucked Feli in when Aria was on the phone and it was getting late.

He didn't like Marco's interference. Cooking had always been something Aria and Feliciano did _alone._ Not even Roma had intruded upon Aria and Feli's pasta-making. As for being tucked in at night, Feliciano would rather be left alone and forgotten than for Marco to tell him good night and pulled the covers up for him. How could he say good night with a smile after hitting him on the arm and telling him to stop screwing up so much?

Even if Feliciano tried his best to avoid Marco, it wouldn't work.

But Lovino- he couldn't just tell his brother it was useless. Lovi had been so nice to him that past week. He had been everything Feliciano had imagined him to be. Aside from the angry outbursts and crippling sarcasm, of course, but even that had given Feliciano a reason to laugh. Lovino had saved him from a week of his horrible days spent with Marco.

Feliciano put on a bright, fake smile. "Alright. I promise!"

Lovino smiled back. "_Buenas Noches_, Feli."

"_Buonanotte_, Lovi."

Feliciano quietly shut the door behind him and skipped over to Antonio, flipping through TV channels as he fluffed out a blanket for himself on the couch.

"-fourteen-year-old Ivan and twelve-year-old Natalya Braginski reported missing at nine o'clock…."

Antonio and Feliciano instantly looked towards the TV. "Feli, go tell Francis and Arthur to turn on the news," Antonio slowly said, sitting down. "Lovi! Get in here! _Es importante!_"

Right as Lovino walked out, grumbling that he had just turned out the light, Feliciano took off running out the door. Ivan Braginski was Katyusha's little brother, wasn't he? One of Matthew's friends….

He stopped at Francis's door first. Interrupting the laughter inside, Feliciano banged on the door, anxiously jumping from foot to foot. Matthew opened the door, still biting his lip to keep from laughing. "Hey, Feli. What're you doing over here so late?"

"Turn on the news!" he chirped. "Ivan Braginski is gone!"

"…What? P-Papa, the news-"

Francis had already turned the TV on. A reporter stood in front of a small house, police lights flashing in the background. Two policemen, one blonde with a stern face asking the questions and the other scribbling furiously on a notepad, stood at the front door with a woman with graying hair. She was crying and stuttering out, apparently, the story.

The woman reporting was giving details to what had started out as a normal afternoon. The Braginski's had eaten dinner and were awaiting Morozko Braginski, the children's father, to return from work. He had apparently come home drunk and lashed out at Ivan for filling out a form to play hockey before Morozko's back. Natalya had come downstairs at hearing her father's shouting, and things had went downhill from there.

Suddenly, away from the camera, came the sound of squealing brakes. The reporter and camera turned to focus on Katyusha and Natalya jumping out of the car. They were both in their pajamas. Katyusha smacked away the reporter's hand when she asked to interview her, snarling, "My brother is _gone. _I don't have time to talk to you and your silly stories!"

The woman at the door, whom Feliciano correctly guessed to be their mother, ran to meet them.

"MATTIE!" Alfred suddenly screeched. Seconds later, he was inside their living room. "You're watching it too?" he burst. The four of them piled together on the couch, watching Natalya blurt out everything Morozko had told her, faces gaping with various degrees of horror. It… didn't seem _possible_. What kind of man…? Who would ever say that to two children…?

Once all was said and done, a blonde man with scowling green eyes appeared beside the Braginski's. "We've got dozens of officers looking for them," he quietly said.

As the blonde brashly waved away the cameras turned to him, asking for any information the police had found thus far, Feliciano noticed Alfred had gone statue-still, eyes glued to the man on the TV. "That's Vash," he simply said.

"But, that's Lili's dad," Matthew replied, breaking his stare down with the TV. "He's been a policeman for-"

"It was his last day," Alfred recalled. "He was… complaining to the other paramedic. The one with you. He said 'this just had to happen on my last day, just my luck'." Alfred paused, looking down at Feliciano. "Hey, don't you have to get up at the crack of dawn tomorrow, Feli? You should get to bed."

He could tell when he was not wanted. "Oh. Um, yeah. B-buonanotte, everyone."

Right as Feliciano shut the door on them, he heard Alfred talking to Lili on the phone. "Uh, yeah, sorry it's late, but I really need to talk to your dad later…."

((((()))))

"I know her."

Kiku turned in surprise to her sister, staring wide-eyed at the television. He, Xiao Mei, Tao, and Yong Soo were crowded in the backroom at Red Flower. Kiku had been watching the local news ("because he obviously has no friends because he's such a nerd like that", in Yong Soo's words) while his siblings battled it out over a game of Trouble behind him.

Xiao Mei, at the sound of Natalya's name, had frozen in her advance on the board. "I know her," she repeated, suddenly dropping her piece and turning with worry to the TV. "She… she's in my English class. Natalya Braginski."

"And Ivan goes to my school," Kiku murmured softly. All four siblings watched with rapt attention as Katyusha and Natalya suddenly skidded into the scene. They ran to meet their mother, not caring about pride as they broke down in tears. The Braginski children were simultaneously cursing Morozko and stuttering prayers for him to bring Ivan back, wherever they were going.

A blonde policeman, introduced as Vash Zwingli- "That is Lili's father!"- came and politely told them they were sending out as many officers as they could spare to search for him. Hopefully, he told them, they would be able to find him before they left town if Morozko was as drunk as they had said he had been.

"Your busty school councilor is their sister?" Yong Soo asked.

At the harsh look Xiao Mei sent him, he promptly shut his mouth. After a long while, he quietly said, "I'm sorry."

"It's alright," Kiku sighed. "But yes. That was Ms. Braginski."

The news had went to a commercial. All they had to do anyway was wait for results and hope things turned out alright. "…You all can continue your game," Kiku quietly said, standing. "I'll go and tell Father and Mother. Yong Soo, do _not _change the channel. Thank you."

The instant Kiku walked into the kitchen, Yao pulled an apron over his head. "Thank goodness you came when you did," his father breathlessly told him. "We're _packed _tonight. Help Chèng with the vegetables. Umeko! We need you up front! Actually, never mind, you govern the front, okay, Kiku?"

"Father, I didn't come to-"

Yao yanked the apron up and over his head, cutting him off. "Thank you so much, Kiku. Fai, are you finished with that rice, yet? We've got seven that ordered a side of fried rice!"

Pushed up to the front, Kiku had no choice but to stay. Hiding his irritation well, he quickly handed out extra packets of duck sauce and chop sticks to children who no doubt were going to use them to stab their chicken into their bowls of sweet and sour sauce. People kept coming forth from the cold December night, all ordering large quantities of hot and delicious food. Working had always made Kiku crave salted salmon rolls more so than usual. He was never able to hand customers change quick enough, and soon their was an expansive line before him. It didn't help matters when he noticed half of the people waiting in line were his classmates, silently giggling at his hurried, flustered counting and rushed thanks to everyone.

He hated working at the restaurant.

"I have an order of General Tso's Chicken and fried rice," a soft voice announced beside him.

Kiku blinked in shock at finding Tao standing beside him holding a bag of take-out. "I've also got an order of three shrimp egg rolls, two chicken lo meins, and extra fortune cookies."

As the people sighed at finally being served their food, Tao politely bowed to them in farewell. "Switch?" Tao asked after Kiku sent the next customer on their merry way.

"Yes, thank you, Tao," Kiku breathed with a smile. Tao successfully took over, working much faster than Kiku had. Xiao Mei next popped up, handing him the next two bags of take-out. He smiled at her in thanks too, and called out the orders.

Yong Soo merrily skipped to the kitchen with four new orders. He quickly handed them to Yao and hopped back out to refill drinks and seat the mass of customers that kept coming by the dozen.

Slowly but surely, as it neared closing time at eleven, the crowds dispersed and the frenzied kitchen calmed down a considerable amount. Yao was finally able to escape the craziness and met his children with a large hug. "Thank you, you four! Chèng is fixing our dinner as we speak. Yong Soo, could you-"

"It's Xiao Mei's turn to wash the dishes!" he burst. "It's Friday, so I have to clean the tables!"

"Wait a minute!" his sister burst. "I WASHED THE DISHES YESTERDAY! GET BACK HERE, YONG SOO!"

"I've, like, got to work on an essay," Tao simply said, running away before Yao could pin a job on him.

Kiku's blessed help had left him. Figures.

All that was left was to count the money and lock up the restaurant. Then, Kiku would usually be sent to help out around the mall to assist others in closing up. Everyone who worked at the mall left together at midnight- that gave them an hour to decorate, take care of money, and clean. For this reason, Yong Soo and Xiao Mei usually took naps in the back when things were calm out front. Tao and Kiku stayed awake to study or, in situations like tonight's, work out front.

When all was finished, Yao and the others- Kiku's assorted cousins or aunts and uncles- piled out into the parking lot, chatting pleasantly with the others. Kiku only spoke when prompted, inching further and further to their car. He was ready to spend the beginning of his weekend sleeping and playing Final Fantasy until wretched noon came and it was back to the restaurant.

Kiku _really _hated that restaurant.

**Translations**

**Russian-**

_**Mnye tak zhal- I'm so sorry.**_

**Spanish-**

_**Buenas noches- good night**_

**Italian-**

_**Buonanotte- good night**_

_**Fratello- brother**_


	21. Chapter 21

**How is a raven like a writing desk? Believe it or not, there is an answer. XD Happy Thanksgiving, everyone! If I survive my family, I'll be sure to update soon! Me-plus-my grandpa's cozy cabin-equals lots of writing getting done. Knowing that loveable area situated in the middle of the middle of nowhere, I'll likely have this fic finished by the time I come back home. :'D**

**Fun fact: **_**Tale of the Genji **_**was supposedly the first novel ever written down. Some woman in Japan wrote it. I wouldn't recommend reading it, because the first three sentences nearly left in rocking in the fetal position murmuring about proper, understandable grammar.**

**ForTheGloryOfSparta- Here's your moment. Sorry I sort of warped it and didn't make Arthur answer, but it just eased so well into this part….**

**Chapter 21-**

"Hey, Dad, can I ask you a question?"

"No."

Alfred was slightly taken aback. "Uh… 'no' to me asking you a question, or are you being a jerk and saying 'no' to what I was going to ask?"

Arthur didn't even look up from his book, _Alice's Adventures in Wonderland_, which he had read well over ten times; to say simply "Both." With that said, he calmly turned to the next page, skimming over the words of his tattered book. "And if you call me a 'jerk' again, I'm grounding you from video games for a week. That includes going to Red Flower to play Final Fantasy with Kiku in the back room."

_Now_ Alfred really wanted to call him a jerk. Final Fantasy X had just come out, and he and Kiku were taking turns playing it so they could defeat Sin and bring the Calm to Spira! This was a matter of life and death, here! Why couldn't Arthur see that they were being kick-butt awesome heroes playing as Tidus? Where was the _justice?_

With a pout, Alfred stubbornly crossed his arms. "Come on, at least hear me out. This is actually important."

Arthur's eyes flickered up from his book. "Make it quick. I'm at the part where the Mad Hatter and the Mouse are asking Alice about the riddle."

"Wait a minute," Alfred backtracked, "what riddle?"

With a sigh, Arthur quoted, "'Why is a raven like a writing desk?'"

This obviously was beyond Alfred's comprehension. Momentarily forgetting the oh-so very important question for his father, Alfred pondered how exactly one could compare a _bird _to a _piece of furniture._ Finally, begrudgingly, Alfred admitted, "I don't know. How _is _a raven like a writing desk?"

Arthur's answer came quickly, without any thought whatsoever. "Edgar Allen Poe wrote on each of them- that meaning, Alfred, he wrote the famous story entitled 'The Raven' and did his work atop a writing desk."

Alfred's mouth was agape. "Seriously? But I thought that Louis Carol was, like, five hundred years before Edgar Allen Poe!"

"What?" Arthur burst. "No! Edgar Allen Poe was writer in the early 1800's and Louis Carol published _Alice's Adventures in Wonderland _in 1865, over twenty years after Poe died."

"How can you _read_ that stuff, anyway? My brain nearly imploded when we had to read _Romeo and Juliet _earlier this year."

"Haven't read _Tale of the Genji_, then, have you?"

Alfred shook his head with a sigh. He _flumped_ down on the couch beside Arthur, gnawing at his lip. This, Arthur had learned over the years, meant he was truly thinking of a serious matter. That, or pondering what was for dinner. "What were you meaning to ask me, Alfred?" Arthur asked, saving his place with a nearby pen.

He snapped his fingers. "Right. Almost forgot. Remember when we visited Lili and the receptionist lady said she remembered you running two miles through traffic to get to the hospital and then you passed out like a pansy? Yeah, what was that about?"

Arthur exhaled the breath he'd be been holding. If Alfred had asked about Samantha, he swore he would have died right then and there. Why did that woman have to keep popping up all of a sudden? She was supposed to be gone- Arthur was never supposed to see her again! What was she doing in Heta, anyway? Last time Arthur had seen Samantha prior to this mess was at a courthouse in The-Middle-of-Nowhere (aka Marlington, Virginia).

Although Arthur wasn't sure he liked this question any more. A bright red flared up on his cheeks. "Sh-she was obviously mistaking me for someone else," he stuttered, quickly picking his book back up and sticking his nose in it. "Haha! Listen to him, Alice! 'Why, you might just as well say that 'I see what I eat' is the same thing as 'I eat what I see'!"

"Don't quote Louis Allen Carol Poe to me!" Alfred burst indignantly. "Stop dodging the question. Where were on the night of whenever you passed out like pansy?"

"…Marlington Hospital. Ah! I think I just heard the dishwasher kick off. I've got to put up the-" He was quickly silenced by Alfred snatching up his book, allowing him no time to mark his place. "Alfred!"

The boy frowned. "Stop changing the subject on me! I'm really sick of being ignored like this! Give me a straight answer for once!"

"I don't have to do anything of the sort," Arthur said, grabbing his book back. "Go to your room."

"No!" Alfred jumped up. "It's not like I'm asking who 'Sam' is or why you're so prissy about him! Tell me!"

"GO TO YOUR ROOM!"

Arthur's shout echoed through the suddenly still apartment. Alfred waited for someone to burst in, freaking out and demanding to know what happened. But then he remembered nearly everyone on their floor was gone: Antonio and the boys were right now passing through New York as they argued. Tino and his brothers were out Christmas shopping (apparently Tino liked to spend his December thinking of nothing but his favorite holiday). Matthew and Francis had actually gone out to eat some place nice for whatever reason (read: Francis had met a nice girl and was dragging Matthew along so he could drop him off at the mall for a few hours), and Alice and Lars were with some of Lars's friends for the most epic snowball fight of the century. Alfred had wanted to go, but Arthur had said he had had enough of the snow for now.

With no one around, this also meant Alfred could blow up at him. "NO! I _WON'T _GO TO MY ROOM!"

Arthur flinched back in shock. Since when did…?

"Why don't you ever _talk _to me anymore? All you ever do is yell!" Alfred burst, throwing his hands up. Arthur suddenly noticed how _big _he was. Alfred was a good two or three inches taller than him, and he was barely fourteen. "I'm _tired _of it, Dad! Tired of it! You don't yell at Matthew! Do you like him better than me, or something? Because he's quieter, and helps you clean, and apparently isn't a nuisance to you? You know _why _I never hang around home anymore? It's because I hate you!"

_I hate you!_

The sound of the door to the hallway slamming didn't even register in his mind. Nor did Tino's worried chirp outside- the boy must have just returned from the mall. He didn't even move to answer the door when Abel knocked on the door, asking if everything was alright.

_It's because I hate you!_

_You stupid man! I hate you, Arthur!_

Arthur sat back down on the couch. His book forgotten in the floor beside him, he dropped his face in his hands.

_He looks just like you._

Alfred was truly his mother's son. Arthur hated himself being so right.

((((()))))

Alfred was not crying. The cold air was merely stinging his eyes, and the wind was making them tear. He wasn't thinking when he grabbed his bike, unchained it from the wrack outside the complex, and took off through the snow. It was too far to the mall on the outskirts of the town, so he settled for something closer: the coffee shop behind the school. He hadn't bothered to bring any money, this being a split-second decision, but figured Tavian would at least let him hang out with him for a while.

So he peddled as hard as he could, glad he had been wearing his famous bomber jacket during their fallout. He was still cold- especially his hands, because he hadn't worn gloves- but anger heated him well enough. Down the street was nothing to him, even with the cold and snow. Alfred passed Ludwig's house, seeing him and Frederick busy shoveling their driveway. They didn't notice him, laughing like a father and son that actually liked each other.

The wind was really getting to his eyes.

He wasn't even out of breath when he stopped at the coffee shop. As usual, it was nearly empty. No one ever went to the shop but high schoolers, and only after school. It didn't make much sense to Alfred as to why Tavian even bothered to work when no one was there, but he figured it would be nice to get paid for doing nothing, too. However, the shop wasn't completely empty, as he had hoped. A blonde kid his age and a woman sat off in the corner, smiling and talking about something amiably. Tavian had his nose stuck in a Stephen King novel, mirthlessly smirked at the contents before him. None of them noticed as he walked in.

Alfred took a seat in the corner, rubbing his hands together. They were blue from his short ride, and he could absently hear Arthur chiding him for going out into the cold without the proper attire. He hadn't worn a scarf either, so his ears were cold too.

He rummaged through his pockets in search of cash. He really needed a coffee. A nice hot mocha with cream and sugar. That would definitely make him feel better. Then, he was going to call Francis and see if he'd come and pick him up after his dinner with Ms. Pathetic-For-Falling-For-Francis's-Charm.

There were a few dollars and various coins, so Alfred figured he could skip on the cream and just get a plain mocha. He didn't usually like it without the delicious cream, but anything was better than being cold. "Hey, Tavian, dude? Can you get me a 32 ounce mocha?"

The brunette's head snapped up. "Whoa! Didn't see you come in. Sure."

"Thanks."

As he fixed up the drink, Alfred leaned on the counter and looked at the woman. She had stunning blue eyes- almost like his, actually. Her hair was a beautiful chestnut brown and she wore a scarf that had to have been hand-knitted. The boy in front of her was vaguely familiar to him, but he couldn't pinpoint a name.

"Here you go. Hey, are you alright?"

_Crap. I forgot to check my eyes!_

Alfred put on a bright smile. "Yep! Just _freezing_. It's gotta be, like, ten degrees out there, man."

Tavian raised an eyebrow. "Then what are you doing out here this fine Saturday? I thought for sure Mr. Football Player would be doing something with Matthew or Ludwig."

_Do you _have _to ask me this stuff?_

Luckily, the pretty lady saved him from coming up with a plausible lie. She walked up to the counter with a smile still on her face. "Get me a hot chocolate to go, Tavian. It's about time for me to go on my shift."

"You found work?" Tavian asked. "Great!"

"I'm cleaning out animal crap at PetsMart. I hardly call that 'great'."

Alfred snorted in laughter. The woman turned to him as if suddenly noticing he was also present. Alfred composed himself with a cough and turned away from her before she could see his face. The last he needed was to get yelled at by a stranger. He could just see her rolling her eyes. "Well, I guess I'll see you guys later. Bye, Tavian, Feliks."

He nodded after her. "Bye, Samantha."

Alfred's head snapped up. "Samantha…? Sam?" He turned around to call out to her, but she was already pushing the door open, welcoming the cold air into the coffee shop. He watched her fleeting image chug down her no-doubt piping hot chocolate, toss the cup in a trash bin outside, and stubbornly stuff her gloved hands in her pockets before walking off.

Whoever this Samantha was, she definitely made Alfred feel better, knowing she was just as crazy as he was.

((((()))))

Ivan woke up to the sun in his face.

He thought for a moment that he was back in his bed, and his alarm clock had failed to wake him up. It wouldn't be the first time- that ancient, decrepit thing frequently flickered off spontaneously. He had asked for a new one, but Morozko said that as long as it was working most of the time, it could be used a little longer.

But he suddenly realized that he never left his curtains open at night, so thus he wouldn't have had the sun shining on his face. Second, he never remembered his bedroom smelling so strongly of alcohol. Third, he was laying down in the backseat of a cold car, Morozko in the front seat snoring. Ivan sat up and looked outside. They were haphazardly parked in front of a still-closed pizza place. A sign on the front of it said they opened at noon.

He tried both doors in the backseat, but they were both locked. The front doors were not, but he would never be able to climb up to the front and escape without waking Morozko. Ivan bit his lip, fear gripping his heart at the situation he was in. Where were they, anyway? When had he fallen asleep, and how far had they driven away from Heta?

Was Natalya alright? His mother? Katyusha?

Ivan was so utterly _alone. _He almost considered crying, but that would serve no purpose but to wake Morozko. There was no telling what his father would do.

Maybe… maybe he would wake up and forget everything that had happened last night. He would beg Ivan's forgiveness and take them back home. He'd stop drinking to prevent something like this ever happening again, and, for once, they'd be a decent family.

And maybe Ivan was hoping for the impossible.

Sleeping in the harsh cold had made his body stiff. He was thirsty and hungry, too. There wasn't any food in the car, but there was plenty to drink. Ivan eyed an unopened case of Heineken in the floor. Then, he frowned and redirected his attention outside. He would rather dehydrate than ever taste that foul stuff.

Morozko shifted in his sleep, making Ivan's eyes dart back to him. The dark-haired man's eyes blinked open. He released a groan and covered his eyes with his arm. "Ye nenavideyu pokhmelya," he grumbled.

He turned to blearily look at Ivan. "_Horosho._ You didn't run off. We're about fifty miles out of Heta. We're going to drive until I run out of vodka. There's some beer back there if you're thirsty."

"I'm not going to drink that mess," Ivan said.

Morozko rolled his eyes. "You will before the day's over. I'm not stopping anywhere any time soon. You'd best drink it and acquire a taste now."

"I'm underage, Father!"

"So?"

They stared into each other's eyes a moment before Morozko turned back with a grunt and started the car. They started off again, this time Ivan closer to frustrated tears than ever before. He would not fall into the hole his father had dug himself into. He would turn into a drunk like him. He would not go home to see his sisters with the smell of vodka on him.

…But he _was _really thirsty.

((((()))))

**Two Weeks Later**

"I WAS NOT BACKTALKING YOU!"

"STOP YELLING AT ME, ALFRED!"

Matthew frowned at the wall that separated his apartment from Alfred's. It seemed the father and son were at it again. With a sigh, Matthew mentally counted to three. Alfred swung open the door, not even bothering to ask to come in. He stomped over and sat down beside Matthew, face stony and eyes glaring at anything that dared enter his vision. Matthew merely held out the blanket he was currently curled under for Alfred to snuggle in too.

They sat there in silence a moment, watching some cooking show neither were truly interested in. Matthew had turned it on in hopes of ignoring the pressing thoughts on his mind. Francis had ran off again to spend time with his lady friend- Therese Louna. She was a beautiful woman hailing from Seychelles, from what Matthew had heard, and had a daughter a year younger than him named Michelle. Matthew hadn't met her, but everything he had heard about her seemed nice, too.

Alfred didn't open his mouth to complain about how horrible Arthur was this fine afternoon, so Matthew safely assumed this particular argument had really bothered him. Quietly, the blonde went into the kitchen and fixed up two mugs of hot chocolate. Alfred took in with a whispered "Thanks, Mattie" before drifting back into silence.

It just made Matthew angry. Everything did, at this point: Alfred and Arthur being idiots, Arthur wanting to move to keep away from this "Samantha" person, and Lovino moping around because Feliciano was back in Massachusetts. And it didn't help that Francis left him more frequently to see Therese. Matthew hadn't even seen her yet! How was he supposed to know if she was really as nice and lovely as Francis said she was- if Francis wasn't getting in over his head for someone who didn't appreciate him the way he appreciated her.

The last thing Matthew wanted was to have Francis slugging around with a frown etched into his face to accent Alfred and Arthur's hourly arguments and Lovino's little brother withdrawl depression. Even Alice had been under the weather with a cold that simply refused to go away. She had gotten it two weeks ago from her and Lars's amazing snowball fight. They had talked about how awesome it was for a good two days, all the while sounding just like Gilbert.

At least Tino was happy out of their sour bunch.

The blonde Vainamoinen had been singing Christmas carols nonstop for weeks now. He practically skipped to wherever he was headed, and had hoarded himself up in his apartment with Berwald to wrap Christmas presents for practically everyone he knew. Matthew didn't find it annoying like Alfred or Lovino. He was glad he had so much Christmas spirit about him, and desperately wished some of it would rub off on everyone else, too.

There were eleven days until Christmas. They should all be excited and counting down the days!

Matthew felt like a little kid again every time he thought of Christmas. He remembered back to the days when he and Alfred were still young enough to demand toys for Christmas. One year, Arthur had hand-made a set of toy soldiers for Alfred. He had played with them for years after that, wearing off the painted faces and chipping the aging wood. Matthew, that same year, had gotten three cookbooks and another teddy bear to "keep Mr. Whoever company". Matthew was still using the cookbooks, but had only played with the second bear maybe two days before giving it to Lovino. He didn't want it either, so he gave it to Alice. She supposedly still had it somewhere, but liked to mention it all the time to make Lovino's cheeks flared red.

Those were truly the best days ever- even if they were still recovering from that awful August. Christmas had made them forget about that for at least a little while, and the day had been absolutely perfect. No fighting, no crying- well, not necessarily, because Lovino absolutely bawled after Alice kissed him under a strand of mistletoe Francis had procured. The Italian had a special set of curses to unleash upon whoever brought up _that _incident.

Matthew smiled fondly at the memories, despite himself. Things weren't as great as back then, but Matthew was determined not to let the "now" get him down.

"I can't wait for Christmas, Al."

**Translations-**

**Russian-**

_**Ye nenavideyu pokhmelya- I hate hangovers**_

_**Horosho- good**_


	22. Chapter 22

**I can't write Ludwig and Heilrich. Or any other German-speaking personified countries. Especially together. Smelly Germans! WHY CAN'T YOU ALL BE AUTHOR-FRIENDLY LIKE GILBERT?**

**Two more chapters, guys. TWO MORE CHAPTERS AND THIS STORY EXPLODES INTO EPICNESS AND YOU GET TO READ ABOUT A HALF-NAKED GILBERT BEILSCHMIT. I'll leave your imaginations open to ponder that one. XD**

**And I have some terrible news. My uncle passed away last Sunday. We went to visit him, and apparently he went on a little after we left. He was asleep, at least, so I'm thankful for that. That, his wake, and the funeral kept me from posting last Tuesday like I said I would. Sorry, guys.**

**Wow I hate this chapter, and the (mostly) depressing state of this author's note. DX**

**If there's any British readers- do you guys have the marines and the air force? *is a stupid American***

**Chapter 22-**

Heilrich had grown accustomed to long drives and long flights over the years. Roderich was never home, it seemed, because he was always on tour around the country and sometimes out of the country to play the piano. Of course, Heilrich didn't have the chance to miss him, because he and Elizabeta always traveled with him. Most times Feli tagged along too, and the trip wouldn't be as bad with Feliciano's ecstasy and twittering, happy laugh.

However, this time was different. Feliciano was not going with them because he had to go buy a tuxedo for the wedding.

Of which Aria had changed the date to be Christmas Eve.

Their plan, so carefully thought up and checked for loopholes almost daily, had fallen through _so quickly_. They had run out of time- Marco wouldn't go home for the holidays, they would get married a month before they had originally planned, and Feliciano would be stuck with Marco forever.

Marco had to have found out about their plan. But how? Had he overheard them talking one night, when Heilrich had snuck in through Feliciano's bedroom window to talk when he was supposed to be asleep? But it didn't matter. Marco would be practically glued to Aria's side until the wedding, so there would be no getting her alone to tell her that her fiancé was a monster.

But then Heilrich learned that Roderich had to play at a Christmas concert at Kingsport, Tennessee- just two hours past Heta. They would be stopping at the town to spend an early Christmas celebration of sorts with Gilbert and Ludwig.

Ludwig would have to know where Lovino lived. Heilrich would somehow get the information out of him and tell Lovino. Then… then they would figure something out. They had to. Heilrich couldn't just leave his best friend to live a life of being hit everyday for the stupidest of reasons. Heilrich would rather it have been him than Feli. Feliciano didn't deserve that sort of treatment- not after having his Grandpa get sick and die.

Since there weren't any flights from Boston to Heta, they were going to drive the many hours there. Heilrich would be subject to endless hours of watching Elizabeta yell at the GPS and Roderich indignantly shout at the maniacs that only seemed to come out when all three of them were traveling for long distances.

Heilrich corrected himself: _if he survived the trip _he would find and tell Lovino.

"_Turn right._"

"THERE'S NOTHING BUT GRASS TO OUR RIGHT!"

Heilrich miserably sighed.

((((()))))

The one thing Alfred was sure he disliked more than his father's arguments was his father's arguments with his one of his brothers. Alfred could count his encounters with his estranged uncles in Great Britain on one hand- Arthur hated both of them with a burning passion.

Today was nothing short of an ordinary fight between Alfred's two favorite people- his Uncle Achaius calling them at _five in the morning_ totally earned him brownie points. Alfred had seen the Scotsman once when Arthur shipped him off to Liverpool to spend his summer with his grandparents. The torture of said three months aside, Achaius had come to visit and meet his nephew, whom he claimed was being denied meeting the best part of the Kirkland family tree.

At least, that's what Alfred _thought _he said. Achaius's accent was so strong it seemed he was talking in some other language than English. Maybe he was speaking Scottish. Was that even a language? Alfred didn't know, and was quite frankly too dang tired to wonder.

For whatever reason that morning, Achaius had decided to call and irritate his younger brother. Alfred heard his deep, accented voice yelling through the phone, a sharp retort thrown out with each insult Arthur gave him. They exchanged friendly chit-chat like this for nearly ten minutes. When it appeared both were out of insults for now, Achaius got down to business. He dropped his voice to where Alfred couldn't hear him anymore, but Alfred could just see Arthur's frown only deepened at what he was saying.

"It's a week until _Christmas_, you dolt. Whatever is so terrible that it's dragging you away from home?" Arthur grumbled. "No, Achaius. We don't have room for him anyway. YOU WHAT?"

Alfred's eyes snapped back open. So much for falling asleep again. With a groan, he picked himself out of bed and slouched to the living room.

Arthur's face was bright red. "YOU MEAN YOU SENT YOUR SEVEN-YEAR-OLD SON TO _AMERICA _TO STAY WITH US AND YOU'RE JUST _NOW _CALLING TO TELL ME?"

"…Uncle Achaius did _what_?" Alfred burst in surprise. He had no idea he had a son. Heck, Alfred didn't know Achaius was ever married!

Arthur waved him away, mouth still agape in utter fury. "Peter's just a little _boy_, Achaius! What were you thinking? Why didn't you just drop him off with Aldwin like you usually do?"

Achaius's answer made Arthur surprisingly go quiet. "Oh…," he stuttered softly. "So, they're deploying you over the holidays? …Aldwin too, then? Where are you two headed, Iraq or Ireland? …Right. So the plane is supposed to arrive at noon today? Okay. Alfred and I will pick him up. Be careful, alright? Aldwin too. Call me when you have the time."

Alfred frowned. His uncles, he vaguely remembered, were enlisted in the military. Achaius was part of the Marines and Aldwin, from Wales, was a captain in the Air Force. Alfred too hated the fact that they had to fight on Christmas. Weren't troops supposed to come _home _for Christmas? …Maybe things were really bad, and they just hadn't received news of it yet.

But Peter. Alfred didn't know he had a cousin Peter. He also hadn't known his uncle would be so crazy as to ship him off to America without telling anyone, but Alfred was beginning to think this behavior was completely normal for Achaius. After all, if Aldwin's "normal" was singing insane songs about sheep and playing piano to them, why couldn't Achaius be eccentric too? And to think of the weird things _Arthur _did….

It made Alfred wonder: Was _everyone _in the Kirkland family insane?

Arthur hung up and moaned into his hands. "I really hate that man," he declared, moving to his special tea cabinet. "I need Earl Grey for this."

"Who's Peter?" Alfred yawned, snuggling down on the couch. He was too lazy to make the arduous journey back to his room.

"Your cousin. Achaius's boy. Incredibly annoying, I've heard," Arthur sighed. He put a pot of water of the stove to boil. "He's going to be staying with us for a while, apparently because the bloody British military is dispatching everyone this week. Your grandfather apparently refused to have the boy over, and your Aunt Ailín is absolutely horrid with children."

Alfred nodded solemnly. Now Aunt Ailín he remembered well. She had a fiery, harsh temper and a tongue that was always loaded with a barbed comment. However, she was an amazing cook compared to her brothers, but Alfred had been too terrified to really notice it was still horrible in its own right. That was another curse of Kirkland family, he supposed. None of them could cook. Besides himself, of course. Everything Alfred fixed was delicious. So delicious that it sometimes made Matthew so emotional he'd cry, and cause Francis to nearly faint. Lovino had been too stubborn to try anything, and Antonio had respectfully declined in favor of the churros he had "just made".

Dirty lying Spaniard.

Arthur sighed in relief with the water was rightfully boiling. "Want some?"

Alfred tried his best not to look too repulsed- Arthur tended to be cranky after speaking with his brothers. "Uh, no thanks. Do I still have my Starbucks in the fridge?"

Now Arthur tried to keep himself from looking utterly disgusted. It was one thing to drink awful coffee, but to drink it cold? Alfred obviously must be lacking important taste buds.

Content with their respective beverages, Alfred and Arthur waited until noon.

((((()))))

Heilrich almost cried out in joy when he caught sight of Gilbert waving largely from his porch. Finally! After so many agonizing hours, he was finally here! He was going to _demand _Ludwig direct him to Lovino's house.

He eagerly jumped outside. Gilbert, unfortunately, changed course from Elizabeta to him. His uncle scooped him up in a hug that choked the breath out of him. "Good to see you, Little Man! Geez, it's been forever! Let's go, guys! Chop chop, Roddy, it's freaking cold out here!"

They were met with the sweet smell of pastries baking in the kitchen. It was the one thing Heilrich loved the most about Gilbert's house- Helda and Ludwig always made the best cakes. Not that his cousin would ever admit it, of course.

_No! No thinking about cake until AFTER you've told Lovino!_

Suddenly, right as Heilrich slipped away to the living room (Gilbert would keep Elizabeta and Roderich busy for at least fifteen minutes with some sort of boasting about his latest awesome deeds), the three German Shepherds Heilrich had forgotten about swarmed him. The biggest, Astro, pawed his chest, sending the ten-year-old toppling back with a thud. The other two advanced and began the horrid Licking of the Face routine.

"Astro, Brooklyn, Rose! How many times have I told you not to jump on the guests?"

Heilrich took a deep breath when the dogs drew back, bolting to his feet. "Sorry about that," Ludwig said, casting his German Shepherds a scowl. They scurried back to whence they'd come. Heilrich awkwardly returned the discomfited smile Ludwig gave him. Neither were big on touchy-feely reunions of any sort.

"D-Do you know where Lovino Var- uh, Carriedo lives?" Heilrich blurted out. Tact wasn't exactly his thing either.

Ludwig blinked. "Lovino? Why do you-?"

"LUNCHTIME, KIDDOS!" Gilbert interrupted, sticking his head in the doorway to shout. "Helda and Luddy fixed German Chocolate Cake!"

"Don't call me that!" Ludwig hissed, ducking his head to hide his reddening cheeks. If Heilrich wasn't so fixed on his dilemma, he would have chuckled at this. But Feliciano came first. Heilrich followed Ludwig to his seat, both as far away from Gilbert as possible. Passing him his plate, Ludwig said, "He lives down the street at the apartment complex. Fourth floor, not sure which room. Alfred will know. I'll call him on the way."

Heilrich smiled in relief. "_Danke, _Ludwig."

((((()))))

"He really believes we're out walking the dogs when we left them home?"

"I told them to hide. Unless _Vati _suddenly turns into Sherlock Holmes, he's going to think they're with us."

Heilrich nodded, impressed. Those dogs were definitely something else. He walked fast to keep up with Ludwig, practically jogging down the sidewalk. When Heilrich said it was of the utmost importance that he see Lovino, Ludwig had definitely taken him seriously. Now his short legs were paying for it. "There it is. May I finally ask why you wanted to see Lovino?"

_He's the only one who can help me._

"Feliciano thinks he left something at their house, and wanted me to get it back for him," he lied. "Lovino knows where it is."

"And none of this has to do with Aria moving the wedding to Christmas Eve?" Ludwig calmly asked. He held the door open for him and took the stairs, stomping up two at a time. "Elizabeta told us. That's the reason Feliciano didn't come with you. Listen," he finally said, stopping. Heilrich was out of breath already. "If something is wrong with Feliciano, I want to know what it is."

It figures Feliciano would win his cousin over. Half of the town probably knew and loved him already.

Heilrich froze. Half of the town…. That was enough people to crash a wedding and bring light to Marco. "A-actually, there is a problem. A big problem. I need you to get me everyone in town that knows Feliciano!"

With that said, the ten-year-old resumed his climb upstairs. "We'll start with Lovino and this Alfred guy first! What other neighbors does Lovino have? Feliciano probably met them all. We have to get them, you and Gilbert, _Vati _and _Mutti_, and everyone else!"

"Why?" Ludwig called up the stairs. He quickly caught up, keeping him from rushing off by grabbing the back of his sweater to halt him. "What's wrong?"

And Ludwig was the second person Heilrich broke his promise by telling.

((((()))))

Matthew never liked going to the mall with his father, because he was either going to be left there for a good three hours alone or be subject to Francis's nagging about him getting better clothes, because hoodies were ratty.

Hoodies were not ratty. They were warm and cheaper than the designer, thread-bare clothes Francis had to wear to survive.

"I don't see her yet," Francis complained, sitting on a bench in front of the water fountain they were supposed to be meeting at. Nearly two months, and finally Matthew was going to meet the latest woman of Francis's dreams. He was thoroughly impressed they had lasted this long. If the woman didn't end up hating him by the end of the week, Francis tended to notice she was a nut job or more pathetically desperate than him and ended things right there. Therese must have been a pretty good one, this time, but Matthew didn't look for her to last very much longer. Even if Matthew liked the woman, Francis would suddenly grow picky and claim he was lying to make him feel better, in turn causing him to feel guilty.

Matthew was not one of those moody teenagers who blew up at the idea of getting a new "mother". So long as she and Francis loved each other, that was enough for him.

But unlike all the others Matthew had seen come and go, Therese was different: she had a daughter. That meant she, too, had been married at one time. Matthew hoped she stood a chance. She sounded like a lovely person.

"There's Francis and Matthew."

The blondes in question turned to the entrance of Belk. Tao Wang pointed to them. A pretty dark-skinned girl in the prettiest blue dress with the prettiest dark eyes stood beside him. Matthew mentally smacked himself when he saw she and Tao were holding hands.

A smile broke out on Francis's face when an equally pretty woman appeared behind the two. "That's Therese and Michelle."

Therese looked barely over thirty- not a wrinkle in sight on her beautiful dark face. Dark eyes like her daughter's sparkled with laughter. She, like Francis, wore only designer clothes- a fancy fur coat, Hollister jeans no respectable thirty-year-old should ever wear, and pale blouse. Her hair was twisted up in a tight bun, wisps of hair flowing out. It looked quickly put up and slightly messy while looking amazingly beautiful.

And really, that was the only way Matthew could describe either of them.

The Seychellois caught sight of them. A smile spread out on her face as well. Michelle and Tao broke hands, exchanging a grin and a half-hearted smirk before parting ways. As he pulled out his phone, likely to call Yao, Tao raised a hand in greeting to Matthew.

"You must be Matthew!" Therese said at once. Before Matthew could say hello, she drew him into a hug. "I've been told a lot about you. I'm glad we finally get to meet! This is Michelle," she started, breaking away from the embrace to pull her daughter over.

They offered each other weak smiles. Michelle was even more stunning up close. Her hair was slightly kinky, but Matthew could tell she had tried her best to straighten it. It fell over her shoulders in pigtails, both adorned with bright red bows. She looked over him critically as well. Probably aghast at his hastily combed hair still damp from his quick shower (Matthew hadn't expected Francis to get ready so quickly, and thus had taken his time) and the "ratty" hoodie. But instead of sneering, she cheerfully stuck out her hand. "It's a pleasure to meet you."

"You too. I'm Matthew."

Francis and Therese absolutely beamed at the exchange. Ah. So she was the endearing type that spent the movie session gushing over and complimenting Matthew. Francis never liked those types. But instead of further egging things on, Therese suddenly pointed out, "We've only got a few minutes until the movie starts. I'll buy the popcorn, okay?"

"Then I'll get drinks. What do you like, Michelle?"

Michelle turned with a slightly more nervous smile. "Um, Coke is fine. Thank you."

"Do you like buttery popcorn, Matthew?"

And thus did the questioning begin. Matthew was sure Therese knew his whole life story by the time they had found their seats, and was sure he'd heard everything about Michelle's life as well. She was twelve, in the eighth grade, and had been dating Tao Wang for three weeks without him kissing her yet. She had yet to meet his family. Matthew assured her they each had their own brand of crazy. Therese and Francis nearly melted with glee at them starting up a conversation together about the Asians.

Michelle wilted when the movie began. "Tao and I watched this the other. It's really boring, and has a shallow plot. The ending was so obvious. We ditched it halfway through and went to Bellacino's instead."

Matthew chuckled. "Well, it doesn't look like they'll be paying much attention to the movie either."

The two made a disgusted face at Francis and Therese, already well into making out, before turning away with a shudder. At least Matthew had the popcorn.

"You know, he's really not that bad." "You know, she's really not that bad."

The two blinked, then laughed at having spoken at the same time. "Dad's really not as desperate as he looks."

"My mom isn't either. Even though she's been sucking up quite a bit today. I think she's hoping you and Francis will like me or something."

"I do like you. You're really nice," Matthew assured her. "Dad probably thinks the same."

Michelle grinned, shaking her head and making her pigtails flip back and forth. "Mom absolutely loves you."

They settled into a comforting quiet then, ears bombarded with the corny jokes flying everywhere in this movie. Matthew eventually gave possession of the popcorn box to Michelle, pulling out his phone. They were seated in the back of the theater, so hopefully he wouldn't get on anyone's nerves for having it out. He quietly scrolled through the thousands of texts Alfred had sent them. Most were complaints about Arthur (as usual), but some of the latest were ramblings about some kid named Peter.

Oh. His cousin. Alfred's crazy uncle's son who was supposed to spend the holidays with them. Matthew had gotten the entire story from a highly-caffeinated Alfred at eight o'clock that morning. Needless to say, it had been the scariest wake-up call he had ever gotten.

Matthew looked over and found Michelle doing the same. Probably talking to Tao.

At last, Matthew came to the end of texts- surprisingly from Lovino. Matthew frowned as he read it. A text from Lovino could not be good.

_Get ur Canadian _culata _back here NOW._

Directly after it came one from Alfred.

_WTFBBQ, Mattie! I heard from Luddy and his cuz that Feli's creepy dad-to-be is a freakin kid-beater! Lovino's throwing the biggest fit ever. Tell Francy to get his face off of that chick and get back here. Tell him this is serious._

_Where is Antonio? _he texted back.

_Dunno, at the farm?_

_MATTIE. DO NOT IGNORE ME._

_Lovi is gonna start cussing at me. Im going to step outside. When I call you guys, make sure it's on speaker._

"P-Papa," Matthew nervously started.

Michelle looked up. "What's wrong?"

"Uh, family emergency. Papa. Papa!"

Matthew narrowed his eyes. "Marco's been beating Feliciano!"

Francis snapped back at that. "What?" he burst. Francis turned back to Therese. "I have to go."

The two rushed out, leaving two very confused, very pretty girls behind in the darkness of the theater. Francis had ripped Matthew's phone from his hands. "Antonio? Where are you at? Come back home. Now. Decorations can wait! Let Max's thirty grandkids handle it! It's about Feliciano!"

Michelle and Therese suddenly ran up, both wide-eyed and terrified. "What is going on?" Therese burst.

Francis had already stalked off, headed for the car. "F-Family emergency," Matthew repeated. "Sorry, you two. Um, we'll try this again next week?"

Therese caught his shoulder before he could run after Francis. He winced at the shout that was bound to happen. Instead, Therese caught him in a hug. "If there's anything you two need, be sure to tell me, alright? Do you want me to call the police for Feli?"

"W-we'll handle it," Matthew said, trying to wriggle free.

Michelle caught him next. "Get my number from Kiku later. Text me."

"Right. Bye!"

_Well, that's the end of them, I bet. Probably think we're crazy. And they didn't even get to the point of meeting Arthur._

Matthew bit his lip until he realized it was bleeding. Feliciano… that sweet kid….

_Why didn't you say something, Feli?_

**Translations**

**German-**

_**Danke- Thank you**_

**Spanish-**

_**Culata- butt**_


	23. Chapter 23

**Oh, guys. Serious chiz is going down now.**

**BRITISH SLANG HAS BEEN UNLEASHED!**

…**In other words, I give you a chapter of comedy. I hope you like it, because reading British has shredded every ounce of innocence I ever had. They apparently like their anatomy quite well.**

**Chapter 23-**

Lovino had never seen his father so speechless, and they hadn't even explained what was going on yet.

Lovino really did _not _want to be present when they told Antonio.

Alfred, sneaky eavesdropping idiot that he was, had complied to Heilrich's wishes and called everyone present that day at Tavian's coffee place. He had even left on his bike to inform Tavian, like the self-proclaimed hero he was. Lovino would never admit it to his or anyone else's face, but he was secretly glad to have a friend like Alfred. He was insufferable, but completely dependable when terrible things arose.

Not even half of the people Alfred summoned could fit in Lovino's tiny apartment. It hadn't taken long for him to shove them out and redirect them to Tavian's place. It would save Alfred and Tavian the trip anyway.

Lovino and his straggling group had met Antonio at the door. At his worried-out-of-his-mind expression, a thousand kittens and puppies all over the world died. Terrible things were no doubt afoot when Antonio lost his smile.

Several minutes later, the coffee shop was packed. Lovino scanned the familiar faces worriedly looking at him. Even Katyusha and Natalya, emotional wrecks that they were already, had shown. Alfred shouldn't have called them. Lovino hated Ivan anyway, but Katyusha was nice. She was a lot like Lili- both were too nice to have to bear the things they'd been faced with. Lovino was insanely glad Alfred hadn't informed Lili or Vash.

Heilrich, blessed kid that he was, saved Lovino the trouble of spilling the beans. He said it as bluntly as possible, without giving any attempt to sugarcoat anything: "Marco, the man who's going to marry Feliciano and Lovino's mom next week, has been hitting Feliciano. For weeks, as far as I know. He didn't want anyone to know because we'd been planning to tell Aria at Christmas when Marco spent the holidays with his family. But she changed the date to Christmas Eve, so that plan's out of commission. I've thought of something different, though, and I need your help."

He looked at the horrified faces before him. "We're going to crash the wedding."

More silence. Lovino wasn't sure he heard any breathing.

Shockingly enough, Antonio spoke first, calm and quiet. And that was what scared Lovino the most.

"I am going to kill him."

The room basically exploded. Katyusha burst into tears, in turn making Natalya's glare just as murderous as Antonio's. The twelve-year-old led her sister to Feliks, who instantly set to calming her down. The blonde had been a sight to see- half of them hadn't seen him since the third grade- but no one had cared to ask for an explanation of his sudden appearance.

Tino and the Vainamoinen's were already preparing for battle. Tino had the scariest face to replace his usual chipper smile, and he was just as active as Abel in making threats to Marco's health. Feli had spent a day with them. He'd spent every waking moment carrying around Hanatamago and teaching Tino and Nikolaus how to make delicious pasta. Tino had loved him from the very second he had popped up on his doorstep.

Francis, Roderich, and Elizabeta were surprisingly the rational ones, dragging over Heilrich to discuss these plans of his. After his shock wore off a considerable amount, Gilbert and Yao joined them. Lovino only heard bits and pieces of what they were saying, but by the sound of things, Gilbert was dead-serious, but still light-hearted for Antonio's sake.

Too bad the Spaniard wasn't paying attention. Antonio was motionless, face conflicting with a thousand emotions all at once. His emerald eyes were dulled and locked on the floor. Almost all the anger he'd had just seconds ago had dissolved into a terrifying mix of sorrow, guilt, and shock.

"…When he dropped and broke the plate. He got scared because he thought… he thought _I _was going to hit him, wasn't he? And… and I hugged him so hard. I had to hurt him! Why didn't he tell me?" Antonio slumped on the table, burying his face in his arms. "Mm a terrible fader," he mumbled brokenly.

Lovino resisted the urge to flick him in the forehead, yell at him to sit up and quit acting like a whiny crybaby, when he suddenly realized this had been _him _a few weeks ago. In need of comfort he hadn't gotten for years. The same insane not-Lovino-like compassion came over him again. Ever since he'd met Lili, he'd slowly felt himself slip closer and closer to being more… nicer. And that would not do. Lovino had a reputation, and he had to keep it up.

But he did guess he could make an exception every now and then.

Awkwardly, Lovino sat next to Antonio, trying his best not to notice his shaking shoulders and the muffled crying into his bright red sleeves. "…It's okay…?" he guessed- _how do people cheer other people up? I'm not Oprah, darn it._

Antonio seemed to think that was enough. He made an effort to calm down and peeked an emerald, blotchy eye through his mussed bangs. "_Gracias, mi tomate_."

Great. He'd brought out the nicknames. Lovino attempted to wrench a smile on his face. "We're going to figure something out. Don't worry."

A British-accented string of curses suddenly filled the air. "I FORGOT ABOUT PETER!" Arthur screeched, jumping out of his seat. It clattered to the floor, making Yong Soo, sitting behind him, shriek in terror.

He tore through everyone blocking his path to reach the door. "It's one-thirty! Dear Lord, I've left the boy alone for an hour and a half! ALFRED!" he suddenly shouted, remembering the reason he was at the coffee shop in the first place. "I'll come pick you up later! Dear Lord, Achaius is going to kill me- WHY DID NO ONE REMIND ME MY BLOODY NEPHEW WAS AT THE AIRPORT?"

With that, the erratic blonde left, skidding out of the parking lot, absolutely _flooring it._

((((()))))

The next two hours had been mostly spent in silence. Just as Antonio's anger had faded, so had everyone else's. The reality of the situation had suddenly hit them in the face. Heilrich, his family, and Yao were really the only ones speaking- still fixing the kinks in Heilrich's plan. So far, they had entailed the easiest way to sneak into the wedding with all of them would be to pose as the catering service. Yao had already offered to do the cooking, as had Francis, Tavian, and Tao. The others were either to help them with the cooking and general serving or help with the hardest job of all: finding Feli, getting Marco into a headlock until the Boston police arrived on the scene, and, of which unfortunately fell on Antonio and Lovino's shoulders to do; to break the news to Aria.

Christmas Eve was going to be something else.

"You need to help Lovino, Kiku," Yong Soo sagely advised. "That way you can wear that ninja costume you wore for Halloween."

The eldest sibling's cheeks turned as pink as sakura blossoms. "I-I didn't wear it for _Halloween_, per se. I didn't even _celebrate _Halloween- I only wore it because everyone at the restaurant was supposed to-"

"MY BROTHER IS A NINJA!" Yong Soo proudly declared nonetheless. "HE'S GOING TO KICK MARCO'S BUTT LIKE CHUCK NORRIS WOULD KICK THE SMELLY JAPANESE OUT OF KOREA, DA ZE!"

"If I did not agree that the Japanese had… gone a bit far with their conquests of Korea, I would say that was offending."

"Hah. Kiku admitted Korea rocks. I told you guys denial originated in Korea!"

Kiku sighed. "No, I didn't. I just said that I agree that the treatment of the Koreans from 1910 to 1945 was considerably more harsh than the treatment of the Chinese- though not by much."

Alfred moaned and dropped his head on the table. "It's Christmas break, dude. No one wants to hear a history lesson. Mr. Karpusi isn't even here."

Lovino suddenly snapped to attention. "Mr. Karpusi! He could help us! Francis, do you have-"

"I… have his number," Kiku mumbled, cheeks reddening once more. "We… discuss history sometimes over the phone."

"He may be a ninja, but he's still an epic fail."

Xiao Mei and Tao simultaneously flicked their brother's head. "You're not a fail," Tao assured Kiku, completely ignoring Yong Soo's bemoaning about his abused forehead.

Smiling in thanks, Kiku pulled out his phone, shamed once more when everyone discovered he had Herakles on speed dial. "Ah… _konnichi-wa_, Mr. Karpusi. I have a favor to ask of you, if you don't mind. You see, we recently heard some news about your nephew, Feliciano, and-"

"I said I was bloody sorry!"

"Shut up, jerk! Ugh, I sodding _hate _you, Uncle Arthur."

"Don't use that kind of language to me!"

"Sodding! Uncle Arthur wears frilly pink Alan Whickers!"

"I DO NOT!"

"And he's an antwacky anorak!"

The arguing blonde Brits entered the coffee shop, where their bickering only further blossomed. At Arthur's side was a short boy wearing a cerulean cap nearly too big for his head. Eyebrows nearly the same size as Arthur's, poor boy, furrowed above his bright green eyes. He and Arthur both dragged two large suitcases behind him, each respectively decorated with England's flag and Scotland's flag.

Peter wasn't about to slow down now. "April, arse, arris- shall I start with the 'B' words, now? Bloody! Bahookie! Bollocks! Baps-" Peter paused, eyes widening when they found Katyusha. Or, rather, Katyusha's chest. "I say, those are some baps."

Arthur slapped his hand over the boy's mouth. "For the love of…! Don't _speak _like that!"

Kiku blinked, then quickly apologized profusely into the phone. "Arthur Kirkland just arrived. If you could, you would meet us at the coffee shop behind the school? Yes. _Arigatogozaimashita_, Mr. Karpusi! He said he will be here shortly, everyone!"

Peter blinked slowly at everyone in the room before looking back up at Arthur. "Did you bring me to a loony bin?"

"Sometimes I wonder," Arthur muttered under his breath. "Go sit over there. We're doing something very important. You brought your Gameboy didn't you?"

"The batteries're dead," Peter deadpanned.

A smile spread out on Tino's face. "You can sit with us! We're Arthur's neighbors. It's a pleasure to meet you, Peter."

The boy wearily sighed and trudged over to the blonde, taking a seat in the chair Berwald pulled up between him and Tino. Within a minute of introductions, jet lag and general exhaustion took hold of the boy. Tino quietly took off his hat and laid his head on his lap. "I remember when you were this little, Emil," he fondly said, combing through Peter's hair.

Emil frowned. "Please, no stories."

"'Cause that's my job!" Abel called out.

Berwald elbowed him before Nikolaus could. "D'n't wake the k'd up."

Francis cleared his throat. "Anyway, Roderich, Elizabeta, and Herakles, assuming he's been invited, will be our ticket in. Roderich will cancel the original catering service so we can pose as them instead. We've already discussed cooking and service, as well as who will be the main distraction."

"That's us!" Gilbert crowed, throwing an arm around Alfred's shoulders. The boy whooped in agreement.

"Right," Yao said, taking over. "Heilrich, Ludwig, Lovino, and Antonio are in charge of finding Feliciano and Marco, separating them from Aria. Arthur will then call the police and-"

"Wait a minute," the blonde interjected. "I thought I would be helping out with the cooking?"

Yao couldn't stop himself from putting on a look of absolute horror. "No!" he burst in an interestingly high pitch. "Not after you gave me food poisoning in seventh grade! I missed a whole week of school because of you!"

Arthur sent him an annoyed scowl. "Remember I have blackmail on you. I haven't used it in thirty years, but by Jove, I'll tell everyone in this room right now."

Xiao Mei, Tao, and Yong Soo eagerly looked to their father to catch his gape. Yao quickly adverted his eyes to the floor, muttering Mandarin under his breath. "Fine. You can serve. Feliks can call the police."

Feliks, who still sat beside the Braginski sisters, went stone still. Katyusha quietly took his hand. "What's wrong?" she asked.

The blonde shook his head. "N-nothing," he said in a quiet voice. "Nothing… at all."

As Yao and Francis continued explaining the finer points of the plan, Tavian scooted his way over to his cousin. "Is this about _her?_" he quietly asked.

"…She shouted for the police to come. They didn't. No one called for the police, either. They just… kept on walking. They didn't care…. They thought we were with them and-" Feliks flinched at the arm Katyusha had put over his shoulders. Hurt, she pulled her arm back. "…_Przykro mi, _Katty."

Katyusha offered him a smile. "It's alright. I'll buy you some hot chocolate later, okay?"

"Like, thanks, Katty."

Natalya scowled at the nickname- hers was "Natty"- but didn't say anything. Instead, she turned back to the rest of the group. Their debriefing was seemingly over, and now they were talking amongst themselves. "_Sestra_, let's go home," Natalya started, standing.

Katyusha handed Tavian a wad of cash. "A hot chocolate for him. Keep the change, please."

Then, quietly, they walked out into the swirling, peaceful snow.

((((()))))

Two days later, Gilbert became a very happy man.

"It's… _so awesome._"

Ludwig groaned from the passenger seat of their Volkswagon. Of course, just his luck, Gilbert had to chance upon finding a huge white van with a neon orange and black sign on the windshield that read _For Sale- $700._

It didn't look worth _seven _dollars. The paint was chipping and it was rusted beyond belief, and Ludwig winced at imagining the grating sound the engine was bound to make- that is, if the engine could even start. Only Gilbert could fall in love with a piece of junk like this.

Gilbert caught Ludwig's moan and turned. "Don't you get it, Luddy? We could turn this awesome thing into our catering van! That way we won't have to spend a crap ton of money on renting one!" He cackled, parking and getting out to inquire about his find. "Roddy is going to love this."

"Unless he's found something cheaper," Ludwig muttered. Roderich was nothing if not frugal.

Half an hour later, with a considerably lighter wallet, Gilbert walked back jingling a set of keys.

"I give you… THE LUDDY-MOBILE!"

((((()))))

As Alfred raided his fridge for sandwich ingredients, he couldn't help but peer over his shoulder at his young cousin, sitting dejectedly on the couch. He was as bored as ever, stuck watching reruns of The Fairly Odd-Parents. Alfred absolutely loved cartoons. After fixing up a barbecue-egg roll-assorted leftovers sandwich, Alfred plopped down on the couch beside him. "I love Nickelodeon," Alfred declared, slurping up a coke.

Peter frowned. "American shows are weird."

Alfred also frowned. He had to do something to cheer the kid up. He was a hero, after all! "How about we… play a game then? It's kinda warm outside. If we bundle up, we can go play some football."

Now _that _got Peter's attention. The eight-year-old's eyes went wide, smile uncurling on his face. "You play football? I love football! I was the star player back home!"

"Really? Sweet! I'm totally the best on my team, too!" Alfred jumped up. "Go get some warmer clothes on- I'll go get the ball!"

Peter fist-pumped the air. It was about time he got to do something fun! He was beginning to believe his time in America was going to be the most boring few weeks ever. But football! Beloved, amazing football!

Peter was dressed in a flash. He met Alfred at the door, still beaming.

However, Alfred was not holding a football. Peter furrowed his eyebrows. "Um… Alfred, where's the football?"

"Right here, little dude," he said, holding out the strange brown thing.

Peter studied it critically a moment. Carefully, as if handling fine porcelain, Peter picked the oblong brown thing up. He could not figure out what the white lines were for, or how one kicked the thing without it going awry at your feet. It certainly was unlike any football he had ever seen before.

Suddenly, it clicked in his mind. Peter let out a whine, handing it back. "Alfred, that's an _American _football! I was talking about the British football!"

"Isn't it the same thing?" Alfred asked. Of all times, Arthur was out and about, leaving him with no one to ask concerning British things.

With a sigh, Peter grabbed his coat, pulling him back to the living room. He sat Alfred down on the couch and retrieved a pen and notepad. He drew a circle, trying his best to make it look good. Peter wasn't much of an artist, but he knew his football well. After coloring in the black pentagons, he handed the paper to Alfred. "_That _is a football, Alfred."

His older cousin shook his head. "Nope. That's a soccer ball."

"A _what _ball?"

"A soccer ball. You know, the game where you kick the ball across the field into a goal?"

Peter gaped. "That's football!"

Alfred put on a face of horror. "No no no! That's not football- that's _soccer_! S-O-C-C-E-R. Football is the game where you toss the ball and run for the end of the field before someone tackles you."

They stared at each other a long while, but aghast at the other not knowing their favorite game. They were still locked in this confusion and horror when Arthur came back home.

Arthur only had to look once at their faces and the football cradled in Alfred's arms before sighing. "Football?"

"Uh-huh," Alfred woefully nodded, clutching his football close.

"You're so daft."

((((()))))

Lovino nervously chewed his lip. Tomorrow. Tomorrow they were going to drive to Boston in Gilbert's absurd piece of crap and stay the night at Roderich's place. Then….

Then he was going to ruin the happiest day of his mother's life.

He was particularly saddened by the fact, but rather scared at the reaction from Aria they were going to get. She would eat their souls for crashing her wedding. Perhaps she'd go a little easy on them, considering they were saving Feli from a life of pain, but Lovino figured she'd be too full of herself to be thankful for that.

He was not very happy with his mother at the moment.

Who got married on Christmas Eve, anyway? No one wanted to go to a smelly wedding in favor of staying home and doing family stuff, like last minute present buying and caroling and whatever else it was that people did. Lovino was painfully aware he and Antonio did not spend their Christmas Eves normally- no one else on earth, Lovino bet, spent the entire day huddled under a blanket next to their electric heater singing warm and sunny Spanish songs in an attempt to convince their brains they were in Andalucia instead of freezing Virginia. It was a Carriedo family tradition, and Lovino observed it with pride. Besides, when their throats got sore from half-hearted songs, they scurried off to Matthew for hot chocolate.

Now they were going to break tradition so they could spend Christmas in jail. Lovino was sure it was going to happen, too. Everything might be bright and perfect in everyone else's head, but Lovino was sure Aria would scream her head off at them and charge each and every one of them.

Lovino sighed.

They were doing this for Feli.

That was all that mattered.

**Translations**

**Spanish-**

_**Gracias, mi tomate- Thank you, my tomato.**_

**Japanese-**

_**Konnichi-wa- good afternoon**_

_**Arigatogozaimashita- thank you very much**_

**Polish-**

_**Przykro mi- I'm sorry**_

**Russian-**

_**Sestra- sister**_


	24. Chapter 24

**This chapter has a theme song: "You're Gonna Go Far, Kid" by The Offspring. I suggest you find it on Youtube and listen to it on repeat throughout this chapter. I swear, that song was MADE for Lovino and Marco. XD**

**Another note: I'm going to post some one-shots about some characters before the story began- namely the adults, Feliciano, Feliks, Heilrich, ect. I'll be posting one about Elizabeta soon. I think it'll explain a bit about some of the more confusing parts of the story. Like, Roma's twenty or so kids and three wives, and how they all fit in with this. I'm bursting with ideas, guys. Expect lots. **

**This chapter is so LONG… I love it.**

**Chapter 24-**

Feliks and Peter had their noses smushed against the rickety van's back window. "It's, like, so amazing. All these old buildings!"

Peter nodded in assent, eyes wide with awe, taking in all the sights Boston had to offer.

"Peter, sit down!" Arthur snapped. He would have reached to pull the boy down, but his arms were full holding a box of packages of pasta and cans of tomato sauce. He was considerably well off when compared to Ludwig and the Wang family. They respectively held the pots and pans and the other ingredients for anything and everything. Yao and his children were smushed together in the middle row. The bickering they'd done the entire day's worth of traveling was enough to make anyone, let alone Lovino and Arthur, want to kick them out of the van. However, they couldn't just throw out their best cooks.

Tavian, Katyusha, Natalya, Alfred, and Matthew sat in very back of the van. Feliks and Peter had crawled back with them to leave Tino and his brothers some peace. Their complaining had nearly been as migraine inducing as Yong Soo's shouts every three seconds that proclaimed "THAT originated in Korea too!" However, their complaints hadn't been quite so without good cause. Abel and Berwald's legs had been cramped behind the driver's seat (occupied by Gilbert) and Abel's crowing and Feliks's never-ending stories made everyone in the seat irritated beyond belief. Peter had moved around from sitting on Berwald's lap to Tino's and back every so often, his two favorite people ever upon coming to America. He absolutely adored the two blondes.

Arthur, Lovino, Francis, Alice, and Lars had occupied a row as well. They were so pressed for room that Alice practically sat on top of Lovino and Lars, keeping the former's face a lovely shade of bright red the entire red.

Antonio and Gilbert, lucky jerks like they were, sat up front, shouting (not singing, mind you) along with every song that popped up on the radio.

Needless to say, when they finally arrived in Boston, the Luddy-Mobile's passengers cheered.

((((()))))

"Everyone in position," Arthur called as Gilbert pulled into the back of the church parking lot. Yong Soo was already crawling over his siblings for the door. He yanked it open wide, gulping in chilly fresh air. Peter and Alfred immediately followed his example, tearing past everyone else to jump out and start stretching their legs. Completely ignoring Arthur's instructions, the occupants filed out sighing in sweet relief.

Grumbling, Arthur followed after, trudging along his crate of pasta. Crazy Italians and their addictions for pasta.

They quickly snuck inside to their respective positions: Yao and everyone else Aria would not recognize (assuming, of course, she could not recall her high school acquaintances) had been sent to the fellowship hall at the back of the church to start on food. Roderich and Elizabeta were busy helping everyone get ready, but Heilrich had promised to find Feli and keep him from Marco. Antonio and Lovino were already stomping inside, ready for blood.

Thankfully, they had Gilbert and Ludwig to keep them tame.

"Right on time," Herakles calmly said. He was dressed impeccably in a fancy tuxedo of Roma's cherished Armani brand. Gupta stood by him. The quiet man nodded in gratitude. Herakles had filled him in on the situation, and he had instantly agreed to help in whatever way. They had the job of keeping the priest occupied.

Against their better judgment, Peter and the Vainamoinen's were charged with the task of distracting the bridesmaids and best men. Led off by Peter and Abel's maniacal laughter, the blondes soon disappeared into the recesses of the church.

The church was beautiful. Pale tile covered the floor, reflecting everyone's faces back up at them as they gawked. Feliks especially fell in love. "The color scheme is, like, so regal! I, like, love it! Could use more pink. But since it's church, I'll let it slide this time."

"You're here!"

Gilbert swirled around, pulling Heilrich up to his chest. He then proceeded to hug the life out of him. "How's my favorite nephew!" he crowed, spinning him around. Heilrich wobbled, dizzy, when he was finally released.

The blonde boy shook his head. He glared up at them. "It's about time! I haven't been able to find Feli all afternoon! Aria said he ran somewhere looking for me, but he would have found me by now."

"You're probably running circles around each other," Gilbert guessed.

Lovino shook his head. "Feli's too clingy for that. I'm going to look for him. _You_," he said pointedly to the lot of them, "stay here."

He turned and stalked off, finally at peace to imagine creative ways to smash Marco's ugly face in. Right now, his favorite was throwing Feliks on him and let the annoying little booger annoy him to death with his stupid accent and over usage of the word "like".

Feliks seriously got on Lovino's nerves. He felt like punching him in the face, too. Always so noisy!

…Like the sound of crying.

Lovino froze, head snapping to a door to his right. He slowly walked over and put his ear to the door.

"…explain this stain, then? I told you not to get anything on my jacket!"

"I-I d-d-didn't!"

Snarling, Lovino burst though the door. Marco, fist raised, froze, eyes wide in shock. Feliciano let out a hiccup and ran to him. "_Fratello!_"

"Go get _Papá_, Feli. Don't come back alone," Lovino warned, shoving his brother out the door.

Feliciano stood there a minute, stunned by his sudden rescue. Then, nodding solemnly, he burst, "_Prometto_! I'll be right back, _Fratello_!"

Both Marco and Lovino waited until Feliciano's small, stomping steps had faded down the hall. Then, without any warning but the squeaking of his dress shoes, Lovino launched himself at Marco. "How dare you touch my brother!" The man easily shoved Lovino away, swinging out a leaden fist. Lovino ducked, elbowing him in the stomach.

Marco didn't even flinch. "Get back here, brat!" he roared when Lovino sprinted to the other side of the spacious, nearly empty storage room. When Marco finally caught up with the skinny Italian, he punched again. Lovino side-stepped it lithely, a faint grin coming on his face. "Mad I'm not defenseless like Feli?" he growled.

Suddenly, a punch Lovino didn't anticipate seemingly came out of no where, connecting with his nose. A loud crack was heard and blood starting gushing down his face, pain flaring all over his head. Before Lovino could recover from the blow, Marco jabbed his elbow in his ribs, sending more beaten nerves to intermingle with the pain from his broken nose.

_I'm going to look terrible for school after Christmas break is over, _Lovino hazily thought, stumbling out of the way of Marco's third bullet attack. He ducked under Marco's arm, causing him to slam his knuckles into the wall. Grating sharp stings ran along his chest and face, growing in intensity with each heavy, bumbling step. His eyesight blinked out, but Lovino stomped hard, sending another line of lighting through his body. He absolutely _could not _pass out now. _What do boxers think of to keep them on their feet? Not that I'm buff and can take a hit like them- Alfred and Ludwig! They take abuse on the field! What do they think of!_

The thought sent his mind back to the days he, Matthew, Lili, and Alice had stayed after school Friday to watch Alfred and Ludwig's final practice and warm up before a game they would no doubt win. Lovino didn't have nearly as many friends as any of them, but he knew he didn't need anyone other than his neighbors and sweet, frail little Lili. Lovino paused, turning to face Marco with a dark glare. _Lili. She has to fight every day with her cancer. If she can be strong, so can I._

When Marco threw out his next punch, the blow whistling by Lovino's ear, the fourteen-year-old dropped to the floor and swung out his leg, tripping Marco as the velocity from his punch dragged him forward.

An echoing crack resounded from Marco meeting the hard, unforgiving concrete floor. He howled in pain, his left arm grotesquely broken and scraped. A stream of curses spewed from Marco's mouth. "I'll kill you!" he screamed, grabbing Lovino's ankle with his good hand before the Italian could get to his feet and out of harm's way.

He painfully crashed to the floor, landing on his bruised ribs. A scream escaped his mouth, but still he refused to give in to unconsciousness fighting its way into his mind.

"Lili is strong!" he shouted to himself, kicking back to make Marco release his leg.

Lovino stood, each pant stabbing at him. He spit out the blood in his mouth and wiped his sleeve across his nose, already the pain starting to well down, unmatched by the awful fire across his chest. "If you want me dead so badly," he rasped, "you have to catch me first."

Marco wrenched himself to his feet, his arm dangling at his side. But instead of charging Lovino, he bolted to the door, twisting the lock. "You're not getting out of here, brat. Not unless they carry you out in a body bag."

"I think I get it now," Lovino started with a smirk, creaking up straight despite the shoots of throbbing pain in his torso. His head was pounding and he was unsteady on his feet, wobbling. He couldn't hear anything but his own ragged breath and the pounding of his heart. "You're such a washout. You're a terrible boxer, and you know it. After losing in front of the TV, you met Aria and swept my stupid mother off her feet. Then you came home with her, where you resorted to hitting poor little kids for fun to make up for the void in your life. You're pathetic, Marco."

He didn't even respond. Marco flung out his arm, grabbing his neck. Lovino gasped in precious oxygen before Marco tightened his grip. It _hurt_- every part of his body burned with new protest, his muscles screaming for oxygen, for the need to get away. Lovino's fingers scrabbled to peel Marco's fingers away from his windpipe but the Italian's attempts were futile. Darkness flashed up in his mind, weakening him. It was… getting harder to keep fighting against the growing unconsciousness. His throat burned for that sweet air to fill his lungs.

Darkness had almost fully taken over him when Lovino focused on his one chance at survival: Marco's neck. One good punch would leave him gasping and gagging for breath long enough for Lovino to run away.

But… he couldn't. His arms fell limply to his sides, heavy as lead.

Lovino's eyes finally fluttered shut.

((((()))))

"_Papà! Pa_-" Feliciano cried out in relief, rounding a corner into one of church's backrooms.

Antonio and Gilbert turned just into time to catch the sobbing little boy. "Marco was going to hit me again because he thought I had gotten a stain on his jacket but Lovino found me and stopped Marco and now they're fighting and I know he's going to get hurt and you have to help him, _Papà_!"

As Antonio took off running down the hall, Gilbert cursed and withdrew his phone. "Feliks, Tavian, go tell the others to do something about Aria. Make sure they don't start the wedding. Be creative."

"Creative" and "Feliks" were synonyms. Tavian could already feel a migraine coming on when Cheshire grin spread out on his cousin's face. "_Kuzyn, _we're going to need some pink paint, and lots of it!"

Tavian tossed Gilbert a glare, but he was already yelling into his phone for the police to come.

With another curse, Gilbert took off after Antonio and Feliciano. It wasn't hard to follow the angry, scared stomps as they flew down the beautiful tiled floors of the church.

Gilbert couldn't believe how idiotic Lovino was. It was one thing to be protective, but to take on a professional boxer _alone? _It was a death wish- and that was precisely what Gilbert was afraid of. He finally caught up with the father and son. Antonio was yelling and banging on the door, but to no avail. All three flinched when they heard Lovino darkly wheeze through the door, "You're pathetic Marco."

"Lovino!" Antonio yelled. He through his whole weight on the door, trying instead to break it down. They heard a heavy _thump _and a raspy, choked gasp. "LOVINO!"

Gilbert turned and pushed Feliciano away. "Go find your mother," he said.

Feli cast a terrified look at his father. "B-but…."

"_Now_, Feli!"

With an unearthly roar, Antonio broke down the door. Completely ignoring the pain in his shoulder, the Spaniard charged Marco, hooking a left that slammed into Marco's face, right between the eyes. "_No tocas a mis hijos_!" he shouted. Murder was evident in his eyes.

Gilbert caught Lovino as he fell, gasping in precious air. The albino softly laid him on the ground, taking in the sight of his bloodied face with wide eyes. He quickly tossed his tuxedo jacket to the side and took off his shirt to dab at the blood still half-heartedly oozing from his Lovino's nose. Gilbert winced at the harsh Spanish spewing behind him. He had never seen such fury from Antonio, but didn't blame him one bit. If someone had hurt Ludwig, Gilbert would be giving them a mouthful and a slug to the face as well.

Lovino let out a hoarse cough, then immediately winced, hand flying to his chest. "Kid? Lovi? Are you okay?" Gilbert worriedly asked.

"What do you think, genius?" he rasped, letting out a another terrible cough that wracked his body. "Geez, that hurts."

"Er, what hurts the most?" Gilbert stuttered. He was not a doctor and was not very good with blood, he soon realized, when he noticed his hands were shaking. He instead kept his eyes locked on Lovino's eyes. However, they were squeezed shut in pain. In a quieter voice, Gilbert softly repeated, "Are you okay, Lovino?"

"Chest," he grated out at last. "My chest hurts the most."

Before Gilbert could open his mouth to respond to that, seven policemen filed in the room. "Boston police!" one shouted, flipping out an impressive, shiny badge. As if they couldn't tell who they were from the uniforms and guns.

Three were instantly at Lovino's side, calling for an ambulance on their radios. The other four stormed over to Marco and Antonio. "The tan one's my dad," Lovino called weakly. He suddenly looked like keeping conscious was a war within itself. "Don't… don't get him."

Gilbert nodded when the officers turned to him to confirm this. "He's Antonio Carriedo. I'm Gilbert Beilschmit- uh, a family friend. Tall, Dark, and Ugly over there is Marco Kiryakov, Lovino here's mother's fiance."

"Wait," one officer started in surprise, "you mean today is the guy's wedding? The heck, dude?"

Gilbert resisted the urge to roll his eyes and smack some sense into these idiots. He nodded instead. Then, irritably, he asked, "Where are those stupid paramedics at? Kid's about to cough himself to dea-"

"LOVINO!"

The men turned to the door at Aria's scream. She plowed past the policemen, literally pushing one that stood in her way to the floor. Aria tripped over her wedding dress, ripping the hem with her high heel. She didn't care. When she dropped to her knees at Lovino's side, she was sobbing. Aria took Lovino's red, pained hand and softly brushed back his dark hair so she could see his face. The sight only proved to further empower her sobs. "_Mi Bambino_, I'm so sorry! I'm so _sorry_- I-I never knew…! Lovino, I'm so sorry! I'm so… s-sorry!"

But Lovino wasn't looking at her. His eyes met Feliciano's tearing hazel ones. Despite everything, Lovino gave him a lopsided, dizzy grin before letting himself succumb to unconsciousness at last.

Heilrich, beside Feliciano, pulled him into a hug to catch his sob. He met his uncle's eyes and led the boy away.

"Aria, we got here in time. He's going to be okay now, alright?" Gilbert softly assured her. This was obviously the wrong thing to do, because Aria instantly threw her arms around him next, crying her thanks into his bare shoulder.

And suddenly there was Antonio, eyes red and teeming over with tears of his own. Lips trembling, he took Lovino's other hand in his own. He looked like he wanted to say something, anything, but the words were stuck in his mouth. So instead they three sat there in silence.

They sat there even after the paramedics came, a freaking out, utterly confused Francis Bonnefoy trailing behind them. Even after Arthur politely came by to say that they had things under control with the guests, and that the kids were keeping Feliciano and Heilrich company. He also said Ludwig and Kiku had called Lili and finally explained the terrible situation to her. She had demanded to be told the instant Lovino awoke.

Gilbert's legs were going numb beneath him, and having Aria cry into his bare shoulder was becoming more and more awkward by the second. Antonio quickly saved him from further embarrassment. "They're probably at the hospital by now, Aria."

She nodded and wiped at her eyes. "I-I had no… no idea," she sniffed miserably. With a hiccup, she continued. "F-Feli never told me anything a-and I thought Marco w-would never hurt anyone. I-I'm such a terrible mother!"

"No you're not," Gilbert and Antonio quickly said.

"They didn't tell me anything either, until Lovi started freaking out about Heilrich and Feli's plan falling through," Antonio spewed. He nervously patted Aria's shoulder. "And when he stayed with us, Feli couldn't stop talking about you. He really loves you, Aria. You've been a great mother to him."

She simply nodded in thanks, not trusting her voice as new tears ran down her cheeks. At long last she croaked, "Thank you, Antonio."

Antonio solemnly retrieved Gilbert's jacket. "I think you might need this, _amigo_. It's snowing outside."

"Thanks, man. You know, this has been the crappiest Christmas Eve ever," Gilbert grumbled, pulling the jacket closer around him. His formerly ivory shirt was bloodied and stained beyond repair. There went a good thirty bucks down the drain. "Geez. We're going to sleep right through Christmas morning. Thanks a lot, Aria."

She ruefully smiled and tugged on his ear. "Shut up. I didn't invite you anyway. This is your fault."

"My fault!" Gilbert burst indignantly. "I just endured the most embarrassing ten minutes ever for you! You owe me your life! Now fix me a sammich, wench!"

Antonio and Aria followed Gilbert's cackle out the door, small smiles on their faces as well. "Anyways, Artie said the kids are in the sanctuary, right? I'll go hang out with them for a while. You guys can take the Luddy-Mobile if you want."

Aria's face went blank. "The what?"

"It's my son's future ride. His name's Ludwig, you know."

"Is he the tall boy with blonde hair? Feli was going off about his being Heilrich's cousin…."

((((()))))

Ludwig, it turned out, was good with kids. He figured he had acquired this talent from years of dealing with his father's childishness, and thus was grateful for it. Feliciano miserably leaned on his arm, reveling in the guilt he had no reason to have. Lovino had been the one to seek him out and decide to fight back against Marco. None of it was Feliciano's fault. However, Ludwig still silently hugged him whenever it seemed he was about to cry again. Heilrich, on his other side, repeatedly reiterated that everything was going to be okay now. The worst was finally over, and they had a wonderful Christmas to look forward to.

The guests for the wedding had long left at Francis's bidding. He, Yao and Tao, Elizabeta, and Tavian were hard at work in the fellowship hall serving everyone and politely ignoring their guests' curious, worried questions. Feliks had long left with Alice, Lars, the Vainamoinen's and Peter to clean up the mess he'd made in Aria's dressing room.

No one knew where he had gotten the pink dye, or how he had gotten a hold of the bridesmaid's dresses in the first place. All they knew was that his life was likely on the line if Aria truly had a rage like Lovino's.

Arthur and Roderich sat at the back of the sanctuary to ward away any stragglers eager to get the story from Feliciano. The children formed a sort of protective circle around the boy, Ludwig, and Heilrich. Alfred entertained the two ten-year-olds with a story that just so happened to mention each and every one of Arthur's past blunders- which said adult thankfully did not hear. He had successfully gotten a few cackles out of Yong Soo, soaking up the story; and chuckle or two from Ludwig and Heilrich, but Feliciano had remained stoic. The boy had refused to talk to anyone and didn't seem too keen on the idea of getting up from his spot on the pew beside Ludwig.

Xiao Mei, sitting behind Feli with Yong Soo and Kiku, softly ran her fingers through the boy's hair. It had always proved to calm Yong Soo down, so she hoped it would work for Feliciano too. He still wasn't his usual peppy self, but at least he wasn't crying any more.

They were still telling stories and combing through hair when Gilbert appeared, looking absurd wearing a tuxedo jacket and no shirt.

"Uh, I think you're missing something, _Vati_."

"Huh?" Gilbert chirped in feigned surprise. "Oh. So I am. How about that. Anywho, Antonio and Aria just left. They're supposed to call when Lovi reverts back to his lovely, pleasant self."

Feliciano finally perked up at this new information. "They left me behind?" he burst.

Gilbert bit his lip. "You know, kiddo, if you stay here with us you get food, so-"

"I don't care about food!" he shrilly burst, voice laced with uncharacteristic anger. " I care about making sure my brother is okay! I saw what Marco did to him, okay? I know that he's badly hurt, and I'm worried about him!"

And the curiosity everyone had kept tame for so long suddenly bubbled forth.

"What happened back there?"

"Why didn't you tell someone, Feli?"

"How badly hurt was he, Gilbert?"

"When did you all find him?"

With their questions came more tears. Feliciano cried into his knees, silencing everyone. Xiao Mei resumed her combing, murmuring soft, consoling Mandarin as Ludwig pulled him back into an awkward hug.

Yao came in shortly after that, frowning at the sight before him. He quietly cleared his throat. "Antonio just called. Lovino has two broken ribs and a broken nose. He also has two dislocated fingers and a fracture on one of his wrists. Other than that, he's fine, they said. They're going to patch him up and send him home once he wakes up."

"Are we going to stay and wait on them?" Matthew asked.

Yao's eyes flickered to Gilbert- it would be his decision, seeing as how he had driven them all there in the "Luddy-Mobile". The albino nodded. "We're staying. Uh, if they don't need you guys over at Red Flower tonight," Gilbert amended, turning to Yao.

"They are fine without us tonight. The mall closes early today and is closed tomorrow."

Tao silently slipped in after him. He thrust his cell phone in Matthew's face. "It's Michelle," he said simply. Tao sat down beside Yong Soo, quietly asking Feli if he was alright. The Asian's expression had hardly changed, but the soft compassion in his voice was astounding.

Matthew was surprised- why on earth was Michelle calling him? The blonde immediately thought the worst. Was Michelle going to get him to tell Francis that Therese thought they were crazy? Well, they sort of were, but Matthew had actually liked Therese and Michelle. "H-hello?"

"Hey, Matthew," Michelle cheerfully said, exhaustion hinting in her voice. Matthew could faintly hear a car engine and radio in the background. "Um, we're in Boston finally, but we need the address to the church. Mom tried calling Francis, but his phone was off. Is everything alright there? With that Feli kid, I mean."

"You're in _Boston?_" Matthew burst incredulously. "Wh-what… how… why?"

He heard Michelle's bubbly giggle. "Because Mom loves you two! Francis wanted us to spend Christmas Eve with you anyway. So we are. I really need those directions, Matthew."

"R-right!"

Matthew ran out of the church, passing a giggling Peter with Tino and Berwald. They were probably keeping him outside so news of the fight wouldn't reach his ears. Matthew made a mental note to thank them later. "It's on West Street. Uh, we're at the humongous brick church. There's a stained glass window with Jesus praying at Gethsemane at the front."

"Oh good! We just passed that! We'll be there as soon as we turn around. Bye, Matthew!"

A smile was on his face when he softly replied back, "Bye, Michelle."

((((()))))

Lovino hated hospitals. He hated passing by one, visiting them (but going to see Lili was an exception to this), and most of all hated being admitted to one. He'd woken up with the usual embarrassing wires and tubes all over him, subsequently causing him to freak out.

Lovino quickly learned hyperventilating with a pair of broken ribs was not fun. After calming himself a considerable amount, the dull smarting faded. His head spun and everything in the room seemed to blend in his vision. It made him dizzy, so he shut his eyes again.

Blurry, slurred memories came flying back at him.

Marco put him in here- hurt him like this. Marco….

Marco had a funny name. Once he thought about it, so did Alfred. Alfred was an old-man name. Maybe his name should have been Bob. Lovino dizzily grinned. Bob was a funny name. An awesome name. Like the Luddy-Mobile.

_No, _he frowned, _I hate that piece of crap. _

But Lili was awesome. The smile was back. Lili was really pretty, too. Reeeeeeally pretty. And her dad was a stuffy old guy that needed to calm down. Lovino didn't like Vash.

Vash.

Vashie.

Vashie Vash.

He giggled. That was a funny name too. Vash, Alfred, Braginski- Russian and Bulgarian and Swiss and German names all sounded so _funny._

A sharp gasp tore him away from his thoughts and made him open his eyes. A blurry figure that looked suspiciously like Alice Johannes bolted over to him.

It was Alice. A very un-Lovino-like smile curled out on his face. "Hi," he slurred. It came out in a garbled mess that sounded like something Lars said when he was mad. Lovino hoped he hadn't accidentally cussed in Dutch. He didn't like cursing in front of ladies. Ladies were really pretty. Lili was pretty, Alice was pretty, Katyusha was pretty, Elizabeta was pretty-

A twinkling laugh Lovino would normally associate with Lili sprang forth from Alice's mouth. Her face was suddenly inches from his. If he were more coherent, Lovino was sure his face would be tomato red.

However, Alice stopped laughing in an instant, a troubled, worried look pushing her smile away. Lovino didn't like her frown. He liked her smile. He really liked her smile, actually. No, he _loved _her smile. Loved the way it made her dimples show and her eyes to crinkle.

"You scared me half to death," she whispered, her lips trembling. "I… we thought you'd been seriously injured. And you are. Doctor says you'll probably miss the first week of school because of your ribs.

Alice's eyes suddenly darted away from his. She pensively bit her lip a moment, mulling something over. Her eyes met his once more. "Don't do that to me ever again, Lovino Romulus Fernandez-Carriedo."

Then she bent down and kissed him.

Lovino, in the manliest way possible, then proceeded to pass out.

((((()))))

When Lovino woke up again, his lips still tingling from Alice's fleeting kiss, he noticed Feliciano's caramel head was fast asleep on his arm- the one without the bright red cast. He was thankfully more coherent now. The room was spinning anymore. Right as Lovino poised to shake his brother awake, a quiet voice echoed thought the dark room. "Let him sleep. He's had a long day."

He turned to see Aria silently flick on the lights. "I made Antonio go back to my house for the night. He was making himself sick with worry, pacing around through here."

Aria struggled to put a smile on her face. It ended up falling flat, looking tired and sad. She picked up Feliciano and took his chair, cradling him to her chest. A moment later, she took Lovino's hand, eyes brimming with tears. "I'm so sorry."

About what? For almost marrying a man who hurt her favorite son and nearly killed her black sheep? For giving him only bad memories of her to remember? For pushing them away?

But for the first time in his life, Lovino was glad he hadn't known his mother and brother growing up. The years of thinking he wasn't wanted and had drawn the shorter stick in life had made him strong. Strong enough to protect his family.

He may not have been the one to run Lili to the nurse, but he had saved her from a lonely school year. He may not have been able to take away Feliciano's pain after losing Roma, but had given him a week of respite from his tumultuous home. He may not have been affected by the wreck, but had helped Alfred and Matthew through it.

He may not have cheered up Antonio, but at least he'd gotten the point across- Lovino loved him just as much as Antonio loved him.

Lovino owed his life to all of them, he realized- all of the screwy people he knew from Heta. They each had their faults and problems, but they gave their all to help one another nonetheless.

He was glad Aria had caused him to meet them.

"Don't be sorry," Lovino replied, squeezing her hand. He had been very un-Lovino-like today, but he didn't want to turn sour again. At least, not for a while.

Aria let out a ragged sigh. "But I have so much to apologize for. I've been terrible to you. I thought I was doing something good, but…. When you were little, I wanted you to be someone respectable- for you to grow up and be someone like Roma. I wanted that for both of you," she said, looking down at Feliciano softly snoring in her arms. "I thought Antonio would take that away from you, so I made up silly excuses to make him angry with me."

She let out a dry laugh. "Do you know how hard it is to make your father angry when he really likes you?"

"Yeah," Lovino blandly said. "I try everyday."

"You should be nicer," Aria teased. She was starting to sound like a mom again, Lovino noticed.

But Lovino merely rolled his eyes, bidding her to continue. With another sigh, she did. "With all your yelling at him, I assumed you didn't like him either. I… thought I was doing you a favor. I got carried away. We did ignore you and Feli, and… and I never even noticed until you blew up at us. Remember that? You threw out every wrong we'd… _I'd _ever done. I realized I was wrong, but it was too late then. You and Antonio were already gone."

Silence settled around the two. Snow halfheartedly fell outside, coating the busy streets with a peaceful Christmas Eve air.

"When can I go home?" Lovino hated how small and weak he sounded. Aria smiled and pecked a kiss on his forehead.

"I'll check you out right now."

Lovino waited until Aria had softly shut the door behind her. He reached over and poked Feliciano's arm. "I'm sure if you'd have let her know you were awake you wouldn't have had to hear all that."

Feliciano cracked a hazel eye open. They were still red from earlier crying. "I wanted to hear the truth finally," the boy said. "_Mamma _told me for years you and _Papà_ left us. She said we didn't need you. But _Nonno _was right. She just missed you."

The ten-year-old slid out of his chair and put his elbows on his Lovino's bed. "Does your nose still hurt? _Papà _said you woke up when the doctors set it and you kicked one of them in the chin. They didn't hold it against you because they said you probably didn't mean it. I know you probably did, but it's alright. It probably really hurt, didn't it. Oh, and everyone went home, too. Ludwig called me and Heilrich about an hour ago. They were in Pennsylvania. Yong Soo wanted to ride home with Tao, Michelle, and Francis's lady friend, but Yao wouldn't let him. He kept complaining though, so they decided to make a detour and stop in Hershey. There were still a few stores open. Alice and Matthew got you lots of chocolate."

At Alice's name, Lovino's face turned bright red. "F-Feli," he interrupted his brother's rambling, "did any of them come to visit me?"

Feli nodded. "All of them! I was really glad. You have really nice friends, _fratello!_"

If it were even possible, Lovino's face turned even redder. Nice friends indeed.

…Unless he had imagined Alice's kiss. On his _lips._ Lovino cleared his throat but still ended up out squeaking, " What about Alice?"

A sly grin popped up on Feliciano's face. "Why are you asking, _Fratello?_ Do you have a… _crush _on her?"

"NO I DO NOT!"

He instantly regretted shouting. Pain flared up again in his chest. His hand flew up to his chest, but, unfortunately, he used the wrong hand. Lovino yelped at the sharp throbbing through both his ribs and wrist. Stupid cast!

Feliciano burst into tears. "I'm so sorry! I d-didn't mean for you to hurt y-yourse… yourself!"

When Aria stepped back into the room, she found one son alternating between Spanish, German, and Mandarin curses while the other's wails shook the walls. "What happened?" Aria shrilled, bolting to Lovino's side.

"I -ow- hit my -ow- chest with my -ow- stupid cast!" His shout only made things worse. More colorful foreign language erupted from his mouth.

"Are you sure you want to go home?" the doctor who'd came in with Aria asked doubtfully.

"Yes," Lovino's grating answer came swiftly. "I hate hospitals."

"That explains my chin…. Well, we'll give you one last dose of morphine before you go. Now, as you probably already know, you'll feel very disoriented. I wouldn't recommend doing a lot of physical activity. Shouting may not be very good either. You'll probably have that cast for a few months, but the ribs should heal faster. They were only fractured, really. And son? Don't get into anymore fights."

Lovino sighed. "I don't plan on it."

((((()))))

"Lili, you need to get some sleep."

The blonde stubbornly shook her head, turning away from her father. "I haven't heard from Lovino yet."

Vash sighed. He sat his book down and looked up at the white ceiling above him. Of all the people Lili could have liked, it had to be the boy that got into fights that nearly killed him. What was he going to do with her? He wouldn't be able to protect her forever. He hadn't even been able to visit her as much as he liked either, what with the search for Ivan Braginski still going on.

That case was turning him gray before his time. There was no telling how far they'd gone in three weeks. Three weeks and no one had caught sight of them at all! They had police all over the country on the look out. Vash hated calling Katyusha to tell them they still had no lead. Every time, she would break down into tears. He especially hated to hear her cry.

"I'll wake you up if he calls."

"I'm not tired."

Vash rubbed his temples. "Lili, you need your rest. You have another treatment tomorrow."

She was silent a moment. Then, quietly, she said, "I know."

Peeking through his fingers, Vash saw Lili toying with her limp braids. There was little hair still left in them. Tomorrow's treatment would probably make that fall out too.

Vash wasn't sure if Lili was more sad about her hair or having her friends see her like that.

Suddenly, a tune filled the air. Vash grabbed her phone up. His eyes narrowed at the name on the caller ID- a _boy's _name. "Who is Matthew Bonnefoy?"

Lili's face lit up. "That's one of Lovino's friends!" she chirped in glee, sending him an imploring look. Vash did not want to give into those pathetically cute puppy dog eyes. But the phone was still ringing that sappy, cute tune and her eyes were just so big and pleading….

"Five minutes."

"Thank you, _Vati_! Hello, Matthew? Where are you all at? …Really? That's so sweet of you! Thank you!"

Vash slumped in his seat. He was the chief of police. He was tough and infallible, harsh and strict.

Except when it came to Lili.

As Lili twittered away happily to Matthew, Vash tried to ignore how quickly her voice turned wheezy. In almost a minute, she was panting tiny gasps. "Tell him goodnight," Vash instructed.

Lili frowned, but with a sigh complied. After exchanging their farewells, Lili wilted back onto her pillow. "They bought me chocolate in Hershey. Feliciano called and said Lovino was awake. He's fine, they said. He's alright…."

Vash swallowed. "…That's good. I'm glad."

She absently nodded, eyes half closing in exhaustion. "I'm glad he's alright, too."

"…You can go to sleep now."

Another nod. Then she was snoring.

Lili looked so pretty in her sleep. Like a little doll, his daughter was. A porcelain doll, worn from years of setting away from the world high on a shelf. So soon had the doll fallen, scratching and cracking its soft surface. The doll's hair fell out, looked so much older than it was, yet younger with every passing day. Vash wanted so badly to pick it up and put it back on that shelf, away from the troubles of the world. He wanted to keep in clean and polished, but he couldn't. It would only fall again.

But there had been a painter to come and repaint the doll's face. He put a smile on it that shined even when life battered it down and tossed it around. It was still there, still fresh on the doll's face.

…Maybe Vash couldn't take care of her on his own. He lifted his face to the sky once more.

_Make her happy. Make her shine._

_Because I can't do that anymore._


	25. Chapter 25

**I apologize in advance for this chapter. It's entirely dedicated to Lili, so my writing may be a little shaky and off because of her predicament. Sorry, guys.**

**Oh, and whoever notices the reference I put in here will receive a free internet cookie baked with virtual love. :D**

**Chapter 25-**

Vash hadn't realized he'd fallen asleep until Lili's phone went off, echoing through the stilled, silent room. He woke up with a start, scrabbling for her phone. Then he realized the ring tone was not the flitty, happy tune of Lili's phone, but a normal ringing, like his.

Oh. That explained why his pocket was vibrating.

Rubbing his eyes and glaring at the accursed clock that told him it was four in the morning, Vash answered, too sleepy to bother with looking at the caller ID. If it was a bunch of lousy kids thinking it funny to prank call the chief of police….

"Hello?" Vash yawned, trying to sound alert and professional but miserably failing.

"Hello."

He eyes blinked into full awareness. The accent the boy had….

It was the same as Katyusha's.

Vash jumped out of his chair, walking over to the corner of the room. He couldn't disturb Lili's precious rest. She woke up periodically throughout the night nowadays, crying and scared from horrible nightmares. She refused to tell Vash what they were about, but he had a pretty good idea. He prayed, every time he had to hold her and assure her things were okay, that she would get better and wouldn't be subject to horrible chemotherapy anymore.

The boy spoke quietly but with an urgency that told Vash he didn't have long on the phone. "I'm Ivan Braginski. Tell my sisters that I'm safe. We're at a Holiday Inn in Montgomery, Alabama. Don't bother sending anyone after us. We're leaving right now. My fa… Morozko just passed out in the floor, so I'm using the receptionist's phone. Poor boy fell asleep on the job."

"Montgomery?" Vash confirmed, locking this information in his head. "Where are you going next?"

"I'm… not sure. Usually- like now- he's dead drunk, so I don't think he really knows. Morozko just blindly drives. Are my sisters alright? What about my mother?"

Vash felt a weary smile pop up on his face. "They're alright. Very worried about you. We'll find you soon, I promise. Try and call like this more. I'll send more officers after you. Be care-"

"Oh, good morning, Father!" Ivan interrupted cheerfully, voice away from the phone. "This nice gentleman fell asleep and the phone was ringing, so I decided to help him for being so nice to us earlier!" Ivan's voice was back to the phone, still chipper and happy as if nothing was wrong. "I have your reservation written down for you, Ma'am! Thank you for choosing to stay at Holiday Inn."

And just like that, Ivan Braginski was gone. Vash didn't put the phone down immediately when the dial done droned on in his ear. He looked down at his cheap cell phone, seeing the flashing time spent on the call: _1:22_. One minute and twenty-two seconds, and Ivan hadn't once been concerned about himself. He had been afraid for his family.

Ignoring the fact that it was four in the morning on Christmas Day, Vash called Katyusha. Her phone only rang twice before she answered, exhausted but still more coherent than he. "Officer Vash? How can I help you?"

"Ivan just called me." He paused as she gasped, and called out behind her. A myriad of voices exclaimed in surprise. Vash faintly heard someone with a Polish accent yell, "Ask where he is, then!" Katyusha complied.

"He said he was leaving a Holiday Inn in Montgomery, Alabama. Morozko was drunk and passed out for a few minutes, giving him time to sneak to a phone. He said for me to tell you he was fine. I'm calling the station next to dispatch more officers around the Montgomery area to look for him."

A loud voice stole the phone away from Katyusha. "Where is Big Brother?" Natalya demanded. "Find him now!"

"Natty, darling, he's in Alabama, hon."

"Don't call me that, or I'm shoving you and Kirkland out the back."

"Why me?"

"TOUCH ME AGAIN, ALFRED KIRKLAND, AND I'M RIPPING YOUR HEAD OFF YOUR SHOULDERS FIRST."

Katyusha stole back the phone. "I'm so sorry, Officer Vash. We're still driving back home and- GILBERT EYES ON THE ROAD WE'RE ABOUT TO HIT A TREE!"

Vash pulled the phone away from his already abused ear as the sound of screeching brakes screamed out. "Sorry, guys!" he barely heard. The Luddy-Mobile's occupants grumbled in response.

"Like I said," Vash slowly started, determined to stay on track, "I'm going to crack down in Alabama. We'll have him home soon."

"Thank you so much, Officer Vash. I'm so grateful that you-"

"WATCH OUT FOR THAT DEER!"

"DON'T SWERVE, IDIOT, YOU'LL SEND US IN THE DITCH!"

"WRECKING INTO A DITCH ORIGINATED IN KOREA, DA ZE!"

"I'm sorry. Good night!" Katyusha swiftly quipped, hanging up on him.

Again, Vash was stunned, staring at his phone a minute. With an exhausted sigh and a migraine beginning to form, he slugged back to his chair and pulled over his book again. Seeing Lili's eye peek at him questioningly from under her blanket, Vash miserably smiled. "I am never letting you into a van with your friends."

Lili sighed, smile tugging on lips as well, before turning over and drifting back to sleep.

Vash's smile faded when he saw the pale hair on her pillow.

Christmas day.

Forgetting the events that just happened for a moment, Vash let his mind wander back to past Christmases- Christmases where Lili was healthy and happy and laughing that twinkling laugh Vash loved so dearly. He remembered last year's Christmas. He and Zira had gotten Lili a new dress. She had instantly loved it and rushed away to try it on.

She had come out of her room spinning. Her skirt billowed out around her, long, thick hair flying behind her. When she stumbled, laughing, Vash had caught her. He told her how pretty she was. Lili looked up at him with a smile, her blue eyes twinkling.

_I love you, _Vati.

Two Christmases ago. After a month of pleading, Vash finally agreed to take her to Claire's to get her ears pierced. She chose a simple silver studded pair. Vash had quirked a smile when she jumped as they pierced her ears. Expecting tears to come, Vash's smile soon crumbled. But Lili only laughed. She looked at herself in the mirror, seeing her bright smile that lit up the store reflected back at her. Again, she told Vash she loved him.

Every Christmas before that played out in a similar manner. Vash and Zira got her one thing she would absolutely fall in love with, and would always marvel at herself and tell Vash how much she loved him.

He wasn't aware when he fell back asleep, a tiny tear trickling down his cheek.

((((()))))

"…Zwingli. Mr. Zwingli!"

Vash wearily blinked his eyes open once more, cutting his dream short. He felt as though his heart ripped apart the tiniest bit when he opened his eyes from Lili's smiling face to see a nurse instead before him. He rubbed his face and stood.

"It's time for her treatment."

His eyes flickered to Lili to judge her reaction to this.

He inhaled a sharp, strangled breath.

Lili despondently sat upright, eyes filled with no emotion as they stared out before her. Her hands, gripping a wad of hair, were shaking. Vash felt his eyes burning. "Lili," he choked out, dropping to his knees and pulling her into a hug.

She found it odd, how strange his hair felt against her head. It wasn't the same as having hair on her head. Somehow, it was different.

Lili did not like that different. She couldn't make her arms circle around him. She couldn't make herself cry.

Vash did this for her. The nurse awkwardly stood by, politely turned away. Vash didn't want her in the room. He didn't want _anyone _in this forsaken room- especially Lili. He… he wanted her home. It was _Christmas._ Why weren't they home, Vash and Zira still sleeping as Lili burst into the room, twittering out an excited squeal- "_Vati, Mutti, wake up, it's Christmas!_"

She didn't belong here. Not on Christmas. Not _any time._

"Mr. Zwingli, please, she'll be late for her session."

Vash wanted to stand and scream at her. He wanted her gone.

But his wants didn't matter when compared to Lili's needs. Shakily, Vash stood. He rubbed a stray tear on Lili's face away with his foot. A wobbly smile broke out on his face.

"You're beautiful, Lili."

She didn't say _I love you, _Vati.

Vash watched silently as the nurse helped her out of bed. Lili's face quickly went pale, and she was set down in a wheelchair. He stood and watched as the nurse silently wheeled her out of the room.

His eyes flickered back to her hair. It wasn't right, seeing it stain her crisp, white pillow with blonde.

_That's not her pillow. That's not her bed. Her things are at the house._

When was the last time Vash had been to his house?

He couldn't remember. What little time he had away from work was spent at the hospital. He slept there, in that little chair, feeling his back slowly break. But he couldn't bring himself to care. What was an aching back compared to not being able to breathe, coughing blood, and crippling headaches? Nothing. _Absolutely nothing._

Vash wanted nothing more than to take away Lili's pain. Even if it meant being burdened with said pain, Vash would happily accept it just so he could see Lili's smile again.

…He found it impossible to imagine her, now that she was gone, with her hair. He couldn't conjure up her smile. That awful image was locked in his brain. Lili's bare head and haunted, dead eyes.

Tears stung his eyes, but none fell. What use was there in crying now? Lili was getting worse. She had lost all her hair. The smile that before could not be shaken from her face was nonexistent. Vash had no reason to cry if she was not going to. He didn't even know if she _could _cry. He had never heard of someone with cancer crying. Vash was sure they did, but he had never heard a word of it. All he heard about cancer were amazing stories of strength and happy endings.

But what about those who didn't get happy endings? What about those thousands of others who didn't have stories of strength and happiness?

What about those who wore the same expression as Lili's- without any hope?

A fire burned in his chest. It stole his breath, flashed that horrible image in his mind again.

That shell of a person was not his daughter.

Smiling, happy, flittering was Lili. Broken and… and so without _hope… _that wasn't her at all.

There was a tentative knock on the door. Vash didn't bother hiding the despondence of his voice. "Come in."

A kindly short boy with blonde hair poked his head in. His fearful, cautious face melted into one of sadness upon finding Vash alone. "M-Mr. Zwingli. I'm, um, Matthew Bonnefoy," he introduced himself. Vash didn't say anything. He silently stepped inside. A taller blonde so utterly familiar to him and a girl followed him. "This is Alfred and Alice. Um, we came to give Lili her chocolate."

Vash's eyes flittered to their faces at their names. Alfred had a deer-caught-in-headlights expression on his face. Alice… just looked sad. Sad and guilty, and she wouldn't meet Vash's eyes. "Thank you," he said curtly. "Lili's in the middle of a treatment. She'll be back in an hour, but she'll want to go to sleep."

"Oh," Matthew said quietly. He looked down at the brightly wrapped box in his hands. A bright, springy bow was attached on top of it. "Well, um, would you please tell her we came by? And that we said Merry Christmas?"

"You're friends with Lovino, aren't you."

Alice's head snapped up at his name. The guilt was plainly written on her face. Vash exhaled slowly. "If… if you talk to him soon, tell him to come home. Lili's worried about him. I don't want her to get sicker over worrying about him."

"Does she think about him often?" Alice suddenly asked. Her lips trembled. "Does she… does she really like him?"

Vash hated to admit it, but she did. She cared so much for that boy, and Vash couldn't fathom why. He seemed like a terrible delinquent from what he'd heard of the boy. "Yes."

She adverted her eyes once more. Alice didn't speak for the rest of their visit.

Alfred interrupted Matthew right as he opened his mouth. "Y-you're Vash, right? Um, I'm Alfred." The boy blinked then palmed himself. "Course you know I'm Alfred. Mattie just introduced me. Wh-what I mean to say is, do you remember me?"

"Remember you?" Vash repeated. He barely recalled Lili mentioning him once. With sudden recognition, his eyebrows shot upwards. "You! You ran Lili to the nurse!"

"Ah- yeah, I did, but I meant remember me from a few years back…."

Vash didn't pay attention. In a very uncharacteristic manner, he gratefully smiled at him. "Thank you so much."

Alfred was beginning to wilt. "I…. It was your last day on the job. You found us at the wreck. You sat with me all afternoon. Remember?"

Matthew blinked in confusion. Then, with a tiny "Oh", he bit his lip and stepped back a bit. Vash noticed but only shook his head to Alfred. "I'm afraid I don't."

"You have to remember!" Alfred burst. "You're the only one who was there with that other family- the ones who wrecked into us! With the funny names and the funny accents- but I can't remember them!" He miserably sighed, leaning back against the wall. "I have to remember," he mumbled. "I have to know who they were."

This seemed to click in Vash's mind. The man frowned a moment, searching his mind. Last day on the job? As a paramedic? That had been ten years ago. Alfred would have been about three or four. Vash hardly remembered those old days. He hated to think of himself as an old man, but he was. An old man without the gray hair and the wrinkles- that's what he was.

Paramedic days, little boy named Alfred…. It certainly seemed familiar, but Vash couldn't remember. He just _could not _remember.

Alfred's face dropped. He quickly searched his mind for something to hopefully jog his memory. Vash had to remember who that other family was- he had to! "Um… there was a girl. She… she spoke with this funny accent. And… I think there might have been another kid, a boy, maybe?"

Funny accents…. Russian accents? It briefly resurfaced in his mind.

Suddenly, Alfred said, "Francis- he ran past us, remember? Antonio and Gilbert came in. You told them about the wreck. I was freaking out over my muddy shoes, 'cause my dad-"

_Where is Daddy?_

_When your Daddy is out of surgery, you can go see him too._

…_I want to see him now._

And suddenly, there it was. Vash remembered sitting in the glass waiting room outside the lobby downstairs. It had been in this very hospital. Alfred- he had been so small, so worried but not comprehending the situation. He kept asking for his father, for Jeanne, for some excuse to leave so he wouldn't be alone. Alfred not once had cried, Vash recalled. He had been fascinated with that little boy. There had been something about Alfred that reminded Vash about himself. Something that Vash realized was all too true now that Lili was sick.

He had knew that little boy was strong. He wasn't about to break down over a wreck or getting hurt, but was crippled with worry about those around him. Alfred hadn't been hurt, but Vash knew that he still would have been concerned with them first above himself.

"We didn't give you time to wipe your feet on the rug," Vash interrupted quietly. "You were upset because you knew your father wouldn't be happy that you had tracked mud on the clean floor."

Alfred's face positively beamed. "Yes! And then- and then the funny accented guys were weirder than you!"

"Excuse me?"

"Uh, dude, you got to remember I was four."

"Then you're fourteen now and should have more respect than to call me 'dude'."

"S-sorry, Mr. Zwingli."

Vash nodded, crossing his arms. "So, this is what you grew up to be. Somehow, I'm not surprised." His eyes flickered to Matthew. "You were the other little boy, then. Your father was the blonde man."

Matthew nodded. His face was slightly flushed from the topic of the conversation- he had always hated being caught up in a discussion about back then- but smiled for Alfred's sake. If he wanted to know what happened back then, that was fine with Matthew. But he really did _not _want details about his mother's death. "Um, if you'll excuse me, Mr. Zwingli, I'm going to get something to drink."

Alfred handed him two bucks. "Get me a coke, please!"

"Sure," he smiled.

Alice left with him.

"Do you remember who the other guys were?" Alfred asked hopefully.

Vash searched his memory once more. There had definitely been another family, that was for sure. They were being questioned across the room from them by a man that later would work under Vash. He quirked a smile, recognizing the man instantly. His name was Eugene Fitzherbert, a dashing brunette who once led a life of crime as a kid. However, he grew up to become a policeman. Vash had a lot of respect in the man.

But who was Eugene talking to? Russian accents. Vash was sure they had spoken with Russian accents.

Katyusha and Ivan instantly invaded his mind. Katyusha, worried out of her mind over her brother. His memories turned to those of her.

_O-our father, he's gone crazy! Please, Officer, you _have _to find him. Ivan's just a child, still…._

_You still haven't found anything…? Please… please keep looking…. I beg you._

_It's alright, Ivan, it's alright. Father will take care of this…._

Wait. What?

A much younger version of Katyusha popped up in his mind. She was dressed in near rags, sitting with a boy that looked suspiciously like Ivan. They sat on the same uncomfortable chairs in the glass waiting room as Alfred and Vash did. Their father was speaking with Eugene.

"It's alright, Ivan, it's alright. Father will take care of this…. There's nothing to be afraid about."

"But he wrecked," Ivan had told his sister, looking up with those strange purple eyes. Vash had been intrigued with this child as well. There was something special about him the same way there was something special about Alfred.

Katyusha offered him a weary smile, pulling him into a hug. "We'll be fine. We'll be home soon and it'll be like none of this even happened."

It was then that their father walked over to Alfred. The man was undoubtedly Morozko Braginski. "You're safe, da? Katyusha and Ivan. I am Morozko Braginski."

Vash blinked, gaping slightly in horror. Morozko Braginski. Katyusha and Ivan.

Why hadn't he _remembered that?_

"V-Vash?" Alfred stuttered when Vash jumped to his feet.

The blonde man pulled out his phone. "Katyusha? I need to speak with you. Can you come to the hospital? Alright. Thank you." Vash turned back to Alfred. "That other family- it was the Braginski's. I'm sure of it. That girl you saw was Katyusha."

"Morozko Braginski killed Jeanne."

((((()))))

Lili's chest hurt, her mind was a haze, and she wanted nothing more than to curl up in a ball and hide away from the rest of the world. Wonderful thoughts of home invaded her mind, momentarily stealing her away from her awful reality. Lili wanted to sit next to the fireplace and be filled with warmth- for the heat to fill her veins and take away the horrible chills she was so susceptible to lately. She also wanted to drink a mug of hot cocoa with her father next to the fireplace. They would smile and laugh like nothing was wrong. Vash would smile one of his rare smiles and run his fingers through her hair-

Oh. Wait. She didn't have hair anymore.

And Lili was back to her reality.

She hated the hospital. It was always so cold. For two months she had been subject to cold nights, cold mornings, and cold in-betweens. Even when they gave her warm blankets and fed her warm soup that always tasted funny in her mouth, Lili was still so _cold_. However, she would feel warmer when her father came and sat with her. It made her glad to see him.

But lately, he seemed just as cold as her. Vash was always tired when he sat with her. He looked like he was losing weight, and Lili hated to think it was because of her. However, Vash was still bigger than her. His arms always seemed so big when they wrapped around her too-small frame nowadays. Even if he wasn't taking good care of himself, Vash still looked so much healthier than her.

Lili wanted to go home. She wanted to see her friends, to see her father happy once again, to see her mother without those green scrubs on that made her just as terrifying as everyone else in the hospital.

Zira was never around as often as Vash. She worked so hard in the hospital, taking care of so many people. But not Lili. Zira was afraid to look at her, Lili knew. She was afraid to walk in Lili's room and find her a skinny skeleton with no hair.

Her mother didn't know it was all gone now.

Lili hugged herself, uselessly trying to feed warmth back into her body, as the nurse wheeled her back to her room. The nurse was kindly twittering something in her ear- probably assuring her she was still just as pretty as ever, or she was getting better, or how it was such a nice Christmas day.

They were all lies.

As far as Lili was concerned, today was the worst day of her life. Never mind it being Christmas, she was exhausted and wanted to go to sleep even though she had just woken up an hour ago.

"Lili?"

She looked up at the gasp. Her eyes went wide, and suddenly she was so self-conscious. "Matthew!" she squeaked. Lili felt tears fill up in her eyes. She covered her face right as they spilled over. "G-go away!" she burst.

But Matthew would not have that. He gave the box of chocolates to a stunned Alice and dropped down to his knees. "Hey, hey, don't cry," he murmured softly. There was a smile on his face. "Here, look at me a minute, Lili. It's alright."

She peeked a red, blotchy at him, hiccupping. "I-I-It's not a-alright," she sniffed. "It's not alright."

"It's going to be," Matthew said firmly. He carefully peeled her hands away, still smiling that kind smile. Gently, he pulled her trembling frame into a hug. "We'll make it okay. Alfred's upstairs talking to your dad. We brought your chocolate."

Lili stared at him incredulously, speaking to her as if he wasn't aghast at her bald head. Matthew was acting as though it was simply a normal day at school, and they were discussing homework at lunch with Alfred and Lovino. The nurse agreed to let him push Lili back to her room. All the while, Alice stonily walked behind them, gape still on her face. Lili concentrated on Matthew's words rather than her expression.

"…and then, when we crossed the state-line into Massechusetts, everyone cheered. Well, everyone but Lovino and Natalya, but they're just party poopers."

She surprised herself when Lili noticed she was laughing. Matthew just had some strange way about him that made anyone happy again if they talked to him. He was a natural cheerer-upper, and Lili loved him for it.

When they got back to her room, she was in such high spirits. Until, of course, they heard Vash darkly proclaim, "Morozko Braginski killed Jeanne."

Matthew stopped dead in his tracks. Lili looked up at him. Horror was written all over his face. "Matthew?" Lili twittered. "Are you okay?"

Alfred and Vash turned to them in shock. Upon seeing her, Alfred's hands flew up to his mouth in horror. Lili didn't pay attention to him. She tried to stand, but her head reeled. Alice dropped the chocolate in favor of catching her. "Matthew?" Lili asked again, heart pounding at the expression on his face. It was more than just horror. It was an awful mash of emotions- none of which were good.

Matthew looked between Vash and Alfred in shock. Lili was horrified to see tears fill his eyes. "Sh-she… she wasn't…. It was an accident, and…. My mother wasn't- she wasn't…."

He turned and ran.

"Mattie!" Alfred burst. "Mattie, wait!"

Alfred tore out of the room after him. Lili's head was spinning as another headache took hold of her. Vash and Alice quickly sat her down on the bed. She lay down and let Vash cover her up. The coldness was back, freezing her inside-out. "I have to go after them," Alice brokenly said. "I-I…. I can't let them get in trouble."

She scurried out of the room. Lili knew she was leaving to get away from her, not to go after Alfred and Matthew.

"I'm sorry," Vash apologized in the same choked voice as before. "I didn't… mean for you to hear that."

He kissed her on the forehead and also left the room.

Everything was silent. Lili could no longer hear Alfred shouting after Matthew.

She was so cold.

She was so alone.


	26. Chapter 26

**I sincerely doubt that a kid could remember something so well from when he was three, but for the sake of the story, let's pretend Matthew can, alright? XD**

**OBAMA MUST GO (OMG) GUYS OVER ONE HUNDRED REVIEWS I LOVE YOU EACH AND EVERYONE BUNCHES AND BUNCHES- *breaks into a very embarrassing disco dance thing***

**AAAAND WE FINALLY GOT OUR FIRST SNOW HERE IN LOSERVILLE, USA! There are THREE inches outside, right now! THREE PRUSSIAN INCHES! XD Imma go pray my butt off now that we don't have school.**

**Chapter 26-**

She couldn't do this.

What was she thinking, coming back here? Arthur would be furious. By some strange and horrible twist of fate, Alfred wouldn't even be home, and all of Samantha's trouble would be in vain. With a frustrated, silent groan, she fell back against the wall beside the door to Arthur's apartment.

Samantha wasn't sure when the doubt had first wriggled its way into her mind, but it was slowly eating her away.

What if Alfred didn't want to see her? What if Arthur had been right, and Alfred hated her? Samantha would completely understand why- even _she _would hate herself- but she liked to think he was the least bit curious as to who is mother was.

Steeling her resolve once more, Samantha took a deep breath and faced the door once more. She didn't hear anything from within, save a child's cartoon show, albeit faintly. Samantha checked her phone- one p.m. Surely Arthur would be awake. He had never been one to sleep in- especially this late on Christmas Day.

Allowing herself no time for second guessing, Samantha knocked on the door. She heard a quiet yelp from within. "Quick, quick! Hide the wrapping paper, Peter!"

That voice that voice that _voice-_

"They're not supposed to be home yet!"

"Abel told on us, didn't he?"

"Pr'b'ly Alfr'd's been sn'ping ar'nd."

Those… voices?

A tall blonde man well into his twenties opened the door. A shorter blonde and an eight year old peeked under his mighty arm. "H'w c'n we help you?"

Samantha shrank back from the blonde's sour look and rumbling deep voice. The seventeen-year-old twittered from his side, "I'll take care of it, Berwald, you help Peter finish wrapping those presents."

Berwald and Peter, the former merely nodding and the latter whooping with joy, disappeared into the recesses of the apartment. "I'm Tino. Um, Arthur and Alfred aren't it right now, Ma'am."

"O-oh," she stuttered, visibly wilting. "Ah… sorry, then."

Tino cocked his head at her British accent. "If you don't mind me asking, are you related to Arthur?"

"No! No no no," Samantha said quickly. She let out a shaky laugh. "Not at all, Tino. I'm… an old acquaintance. It's been all too long since I've last seen Arthur and Alfred, and I wanted to wish them a Merry Christmas while I'm in town."

"Oh! That's nice. Do you want me to let you in? I don't think Arthur will mind if you're friends," Tino offered. When he moved away, Samantha finally got a good look at the interior of the home. Everything was spotless- the fruits of Arthur's boredom, no doubt- and she could smell his tea from a mile away. She particularly could smell Earl Grey well, as if he'd made himself a cup before leaving home. Arthur had always loved his Earl Grey. Past the spotless kitchen, she could see into the living room. The carpet was covered with bright, glittering wrapping paper and ribbons that had yet to be attached to said presents.

Samantha caught sight of Berwald, helping the little boy- Peter- cut his wrapping paper.

Her heart froze when she saw how much Peter looked like Arthur. They had the same blonde hair, same green eyes, and even the same bushy eyebrows, poor child. Samantha couldn't hear much of what he was twittering away happily to Berwald, but she heard the all too distinct English accent Arthur himself had.

No. Oh, no no _no_….

He'd found someone else, hadn't he? Arthur was married, and this Peter was his other son. Samantha found her world crashing down at this thought. She couldn't very well burst in now and tell Alfred who she was with his other mother in the room! Just who was she? Who, besides Samantha, would be crazy enough to put up with Arthur?

"Ma'am?" Tino worriedly asked.

His voice didn't compute in her overloading brain. Arthur had given up on her. She'd expected that, too, but….

But he'd told her he had still loved her.

That day- that horrible, horrible day fourteen years ago. When they were walking to the courthouse, Arthur had muttered, "I still love you, Sammy." Samantha hadn't turned around. He always said that. Always- when she was mad, after he got mad, when Samantha felt like breaking down and crying over something silly. Arthur had no doubt loved her. But that one day had been different. _I still love you, Sammy _had meant _goodbye, Sammy._

She hadn't turned around, hadn't acted like she'd heard, because there had been tears running down her cheeks.

Samantha loved him too. She couldn't fathom why, but she had and still did, she hated to admit. But she had been so bloody _selfish_…. It would be too late, she had figured, to learn to love Alfred. After all the fire she'd been spitting and all the ranting she'd done, it would just be foolish to listen to that little voice in her head- _Don't you just love his little smile? Don't you just love carrying him around? Don't you love him more than anything in the world?_

No. Her pride and her selfishness wouldn't let her give in. Surely every time Arthur said _I love you, Sammy_ it was through his teeth. Samantha had convinced herself that Arthur didn't even like her anymore- not after almost giving away his precious Alfred. He loved Alfred, now. Not her.

And not once did it occur in her mind that he could have loved them _both._

Samantha found herself digging her fingers into her scarf- the lovely scarf Mrs. Dubose had knitted her. It had served her well, keeping her cozy and warm with thoughts of that lovely old woman all December. Surely Alfred was warm and happy too, with Peter and Arthur and the woman Samantha had been replaced with.

She tried to stop herself from taking the scarf off, but her arms were working on their own. Samantha presented the scarf to Tino. "Give… give this to Alfred, please. A-and tell him Samantha gave it to him."

Tino nodded, still confused. "Alright," he nodded.

Samantha took a step back, preparing to go.

"Tell him it's from his mother."

And then she bolted. _Stupid! You stupid, stupid bloody moron! _Samantha bitterly berated herself. _Can't you keep your sodding mouth _shut _for once? Arthur is going to kill you! Hunt you down and eat your very soul!_

But Samantha could feel a smile sneak its way on her face. Somehow, it just felt so _right _that Arthur would be mad at her. It would almost be like old times, where she and Francis would tag along after Arthur on the playground in elementary, teasing him relentlessly. They had been so cruel to him! Luckily, most of Arthur's anger was directed at Francis. Even when he was six-years-old, he was still too much of a gentleman to get cross with a lady- even if that lady happened to be his worst nightmare, Samantha Jones.

Now she was laughing. Samantha remembered that adorable pout Arthur would always wear, too! He would sulk for the rest of the day and fervently ignore them in class. Of course, Francis didn't tease him much in class. He was off with Gilbert and Elizabeta, terrorizing Roderich. Samantha had kept Arthur company when Francis abandoned him in favor of Gilbert's brand of insanity.

Every year in elementary had been spent the same way. Even though Arthur surely hated them, he would never tell them to leave him alone. He reveled in their company, even if he had to take the verbal abuse. Sometimes Samantha daresay thought he _enjoyed _it. Probably because her and Francis's teasing was nothing compared to the torture he received from his brothers, she figured.

Middle school, and they still made his life miserable. Except they didn't pester him to the same extent- Francis and Samantha both were humbled when they had to accept his tutoring to pass English. Leave it to the Frenchman and the child who absolutely hated grammar to fail English.

High school, and crazy teenage thoughts invaded their heads and invariably brought them together. Samantha had somehow over the years made the transition from teasing Arthur to defending him. Now _Francis _was the one who found her insufferable when Samantha joined Arthur in insulting him. But again, it didn't matter very much to anyone when Francis had Antonio to distract himself with. Antonio and Gilbert had completely stolen Francis away from them.

…And then there were tears in her eyes, cracking her laugh and stinging at her eyes.

She loved him so much.

It broke her heart in two to know there would be no more _I love you, Sammy._

((((()))))

Matthew could just feel his brain imploding in on itself. With each stomp, he felt his mind jar him back to the past little by little. He could practically see that entire day play out in his head by the time Alfred caught up with him, grabbing his shoulder and yanking him back.

Alfred… Alfred had no idea!

"Mattie, I-I'm sorry!" he gasped, panting. "Geez, I had no idea you could run so fast! Hockey really must be a pretty harsh sport, then."

He smacked Alfred's hand off of his shoulder. "Don't give me that crap!" Matthew burst. "You yell at Arthur all the time for changing the subject on you, but you do it anyway?"

Alfred winced at the shout. Matthew realized they were still in the hospital. He spun on his heel and literally punched the elevator button going down.

_Matthew's eyes snapped open. Blurred white swam above his head. The evening sun did funny things to the twisting and swirling shadows on the ceiling. Where was he? Where was _Maman_? Where was Papa? His heart slammed against his chest, constricting his throat. He couldn't breathe, he couldn't breathe!_

"_Matthew, honey, calm down, you're all right, now. Your Papa will be here any minute."_

_He wasn't okay! There was something wrong- there was something so terribly wrong, Matthew just knew it, he could feel the heavy weight press in on his chest- he couldn't breathe, he couldn't _breathe!

"_Matthew! _Mon petite, vous êtes bien. Merci notre Dieu gracieux, vous êtes bien_."_

"_Papa, why are you crying?"_

_Matthew felt his chest twist even more. He was gasping for breath- underwater, trying to swim to the surface, but he couldn't break through the darkness soaking him to the bone and dragging him down to the light above. He couldn't do anything- he couldn't do anything to make his Papa stop crying! Why are you crying, Papa? Why are you crying? Where is _Maman_? Where is Alfred and Arthur? Papa, _s'il vous plaît, _why won't you _speak to me_? Papa, I'm right here! Look at me!_

"Mattie, look at me!"

It was hard, especially with the burning tears in his eyes, to ignore Alfred. "HOLD THE DOOR!" Alice hollered, finally finding them. Alfred stuck his foot between the elevator doors to keep them open for her. Huffing, Alice ran in and all but collapsed against the back wall. "Geez, you two!" she burst. "Think you run fast enough?"

Neither boy apologized- neither _spoke _for that matter.

A calm silence fell over the elevator as it shut. The quiet rumble of it dropping five stories below was even more calming. Matthew gratefully felt the tears of fury in his eyes dry up.

"_I-I'm sorry, Matthew."_

"_I'm sorry, too, Papa. I didn't mean to make you sad. But… what are you sorry about? Where is everyone? What is this on my arm?"_

_Francis quirked a shaky, hollow grin on his face. "It is a cast, _mon petite._ You hurt your arm and you have to wear this for a while. How is your head? Does anything else hurt?"_

_Matthew shook his head. Francis pulled him to his chest, murmuring something in French to him. It was broken and so quiet, so Matthew couldn't quite hear. But that didn't matter. He was finally able to breathe, just the tiniest bit. Papa was here. He wasn't alone anymore._

_But where was _Maman _and Alfred and Arthur? Why were they not here, leaving him alone with too-nice nurses and a Papa who just couldn't stop crying? Francis wouldn't answer him when Matthew asked again why he was crying. He merely picked at his hair. "You look so much like _Maman, non_?"_

_What? Matthew tried to look up and see his Papa's face, but his own wavy blonde hair covered his face too well. "Are you still crying, Papa?"_

_Francis chuckled softly. "I was scared for you, _mon petite. _I was afraid you were badly hurt. But you're fine, now. I'm… I'm glad you're alright."_

_Matthew smiled then. "They're happy tears, then."_

"…_Yes. Yes. Happy tears. _Je t'aime, _Matthew. _Je t'aime tellement_." Suddenly, Francis's smile widened. "Speaking of which, Matthew, do you know when I first loved you?"_

_Matthew erupted into giggles and Francis tickled him. "It was three years ago-"_

"It was ten years ago," Alfred sullenly muttered, breaking the silence. "I don't know why you're still upset about it."

And the pent-up feeling welled in Matthew's chest once more. "My mother _died_, Alfred. My _mother._"

"My mother left me, but you don't see me crying about it."

Alice slapped his arm. "Shut up, Alfred! Don't say things like that!"

"I don't!" Alfred burst in his defense. He threw his arms up and rolled his arms. "Oh, dear. My mother hated me and Dad and left. At least your mom loved you, Mattie."

Matthew's face flared red. "Are you honestly trying to turn this into something about _you?_"

"I'm _trying_," Alfred spat back, "to get you off of your pity parade! Jeanne died ten years ago, Mattie! You don't even remember her, do you? You're just sad because you want to be sad over something like everyone else!"

He could not stop his fist. Right as the elevator door opened, Matthew arm reared back on its own accord and shot out, hitting Alfred square in the jaw. He stumbled back in shock, only a tiny exclamation of surprise rather than hurt springing forth from his mouth. Matthew's entire body shook with shock. He slapped his hands over his mouth, sucking in a horrified breath. Alfred gaped at him just a moment before throwing out his fist. Alice shrieked as Matthew's glasses flew to the floor, shattered. "Stop it!" she burst. "Stop fighting!"

She broke between the two, making both boys rear back in shock. Alice shook her head, sending them both a venomous glare. "We are in a _hospital._ We just got back from visiting Lili. You know, small, frail Lili who's probably worried out of her mind right now? And to beat it all, it's _Christmas._ What are you two thinking?"

Alfred swallowed hard and looked away from Matthew's face. The top of his cheek and temple were cut from his glasses, which now lay shattered at his feet. There would be a nasty bruise on the side of his face for days now.

Matthew also looked away in shame for being the one to actually start the fight. He hadn't meant to… to _hit _him. Matthew absolutely _hated _violence. He felt sick to his stomach for lashing out at Alfred. Never mind his glasses or his cheek- Alfred's jaw was swollen and red. It would be easy for Matthew to say he slipped and fell in the snow, but what could Alfred say?

Silently, Matthew dropped to his knees and felt around for the pieces of his glasses. Everything was so blurry without them. He hissed when he cut his finger on the broken lens.

"Mattie, I'm so sorry," Alfred burst, gathering every piece of it up. He hoisted Matthew to his feet.

_I'm not._

"Me too," Matthew tiredly lied. "Let's just go home. I want some pancakes."

"Sweet! Can I have some too?"

_You just insulted me_ _and my mother's memory, punched me in the face and broke my glasses, and you expect me to fix you _pancakes_?_

Matthew frowned. "Maybe you should fix some for you and Peter when you get home. I think he'd like it better if you fixed it for him anyway."

He didn't care one bit when Alfred's face fell. "Oh. Y-yeah. He'd like that. I… I could make yours, too?"

"I'm fine."

Alice frowned and ushered them into the lobby. "It's a good walk to the coffee shop, boys. Maybe you'll both cool down on the way there."

"I'm already cooled down," Alfred snapped. "And I've gotta stay until Katyusha comes. I have to make sure it was really them."

Matthew gritted his teeth. "Fine. Stay here alone. We'll hang out with Tavian and Feliks until you come." Without waiting for an answer from either Alfred or Alice, Matthew turned in the direction with blurrily looked most like the entrance and set off. Alice rushed after him, stopping him and leading him in the right direction.

"_Papa, where's _Maman_?"_

"…_She's gone, mon petite. She… she is in the home we have yet to visit. That Home is still to come."_

_Matthew was confused. Home? Home was just down the road. They lived in a quaint little place that had always seemed so big to Matthew, situated next to the school. It was easier on Papa, that way, to go to work and come home sooner so he could be with Matthew again. _Maman _also worked as a teacher at the preschool. They let Matthew hang around the other kids while she taught them colors and numbers. Although he was technically too young to actually be enrolled in the preschool, they let him in anyway because of Jeanne._

_He was proud to have such a nice _Maman _who helped people all the time. He was proud to have such a nice Papa, too._

_Francis smiled sadly, but it did not reach his eyes, spilling over with tears once more. "Are you happy-crying because _Maman _is in that other place?" Matthew asked worriedly. It certainly was not means to be happy if _Maman _was leaving!_

"_No, Matthew. I'm… sad-crying."_

_Just then, the door opened wide. Matthew's entire being lit up to see Alfred. The boys exchanged happy grins. "Al!" Matthew cried with glee. Finally, someone else was here! Now Matthew was double-un-alone!_

_The constricting feeling was almost completely gone now. _Maman _might have left, but Papa and Alfred were still here, still with him. Matthew was happy so long as his favorite people were with him._

Alice again chose not to comment when Matthew broke down into tears in the middle of the sidewalk. She merely pulled him into a hug, fervently ignoring the curious stares they were getting from the few people still out on the road. "He doesn't get it," Alice softly told him. "He doesn't know how it feels."

"He does," Matthew miserably said. He hiccupped and said, "He knows full well. He… he used to talk about her all the time. His mom. He… a-always wondered where she was. _M-Maman _told him it was okay that h-his mom was gone, because sh-she would take care of him. Alfred w-was always apologizing t-to me that we had to share a mom. But he's the one who doesn't remember. He only remembers missing _his _mom."

"Well… he still should have been nicer," Alice decided. "I've known Alfred a long time, and he blurts stuff out like that. You'd think he'd know when to shut up by now."

Her smile fell through when Matthew didn't chuckle as she had expected. "Let's hurry up, Matthew, before we freeze out here."

Matthew nodded, rubbing his eyes with his gloved hand.

_What happened to make us fall apart like this, Alfred? What happened to the way you would walk in and make me so happy? Now… now it's like being with you is a chore. Who changed? You?_

_Or me?_

((((()))))

"Lovi Lovi Lovi, wake up wake up wake up! _È Natale_!"

Lovino felt around at his side for an alarm clock to smash against the wall. Instead, he poked Feliciano, and wearily cracked his eyes open. Feliciano squealed happily, bouncing up and down so fast that the red, white, and green stripes on his pajamas all blended together. Lovino pulled out his pillow and smacked it in his face. "Stop being so darn happy!" he irritably burst. "Do you know how freaking early it is, you annoying brat? Get out of here and let me sleep!"

"But _Fratello_," he whined, completely undeterred from Lovino's lovely language, "_Mamma _and _Papà_ are both already up! We let you sleep through breakfast, but _Mamma's_ fixing a brunch snack, and _Papà_ really really reaaaaaaally wants to see you!"

"Don't care about food. Tell the idiot to look in his wallet. He's got a crap-ton of stupid pictures with me in there."

With that said, Lovino retrieved this pillow with his good hand and smushed it over his face to unsuccessfully block out the midday light and Feliciano's ecstasy.

Feli was stubborn. "Come on, Lovi, it's _Christmas._"

"Uh dun care," he mumbled under the pillow.

Feliciano pulled it up, ripping it right out of his hands. "Please, Lovi! _Mamma _said we can't open presents unless you're up! And I think she got me a new paint set, so I really want to open presents. She got you something, too! We were going to mail it, but now you're here, so you can open it in person!"

With a mighty groan, Lovino threw his aching legs over the side of the bed and allowed Feli to help him sit up. Like a good little brother, Feliciano frowned and asked, "Does your chest still hurt? Your nose? Your wrist?"

"All fine," he muttered. "Don't be such a worry-wart."

Feli's smile was bright once more. "I was just checking. Let's go, _Fratello_! I wanna hurry and open my paint set!"

The sweet smell of cinnamon and brown sugar hit him full blast the instant Lovino walked outside Feliciano's room. He had been given rights to Feli's bed for the night. Feli was supposed to sleep on the couch, but when they had come home from the hospital, they found Antonio fast asleep on it. The three of them were too tired and sleep-deprived to bother with redirecting him to the guest room. So Feli got a queen bed to himself and Aria got her room.

Practically skipping down the hall, Feli led the way to the kitchen, twittering happy remarks about Christmas with each step. He proudly jumped into the kitchen with a wide grin. "I succeeded in waking _Fratello_! And he didn't even try strangle me, like you said he would, _Papà_! Oh, but he did hit me in the face with his pillow, but it didn't hurt, so it's okay!"

Lovino muttered another remark about his stupid cheerfulness and grouchily pulled out a chair and sat beside Antonio. For a moment, Lovino thought Antonio had somehow acquired a brain overnight, because he didn't immediately jump him and squeeze the life out of him. But in the next moment, Lovino knew he had been wrong. Antonio squeezed him as tight as he dared, Spanish admonitions and worries and everything in between flying out of his mouth.

"Get off!" Lovino roared, unsuccessfully trying to wriggle his way free. He only managed to hit his wrist against the dining table and make his chest hurt from angry huffing and puffing. So he gave in, snarling the entire time. Antonio finally let go, a relieve smile lightening up his face. Lovino flicked him in the forehead. "Stop acting like an idiot," he told him. "I ain't dead yet."

The room's happy air seemed to die down a considerable amount. However, the timer for Aria's cookies chimed and all was right in the world once more. Feli made a dash for the cookies, and Aria barely held it of his reach just it time. "They're still hot, Feli!" she burst. "How many times have I told you they need to cool first?"

Sighing in defeat, Feliciano solemnly joined them at the table. He was quickly chipper yet again, however, twittering away happily to Antonio about the wonderful aspects of Christmas, and why it was his favorite day of the year (after his birthday, of course). Antonio instantly burst into story time, detailing every one of their own Christmases spent singing weary Spanish Christmas songs next to the heater. Even Aria had quirked a smile at that one. Antonio was just finishing his epic tale of Francis's attempts to trick Lovino into eating escargot when Aria finally laid the cookies before them. Antonio and Feliciano attacked the poor, unsuspecting cookies.

Lovino sat back in disgust, watching them grab after the very best ones and stuff them in their mouths. They were soon snorting with laughter and choking, so Aria pulled out the milk to dunk the cookies in before anyone could keel over in her dining room.

"You two are pigs," Lovino decided, nibbling on his own cookie. It was actually very good and warm, but watching Feliciano and Antonio rip through them like a hurricane took away their heart-warming effect. "Like, Alfred's level type of pigs."

Antonio gulped down the rest of his milk. "Mm. That reminds me. Matthew called earlier and said they were going to visit Lili."

"What? Well, how is she?"

He shrugged, purposely avoiding his eyes. "I… they haven't called back yet. Alice went with them, though."

Lovino could feel the blush spread across his cheeks. He grabbed another cookie and focused on cramming it into his mouth. "Alright."

Antonio cocked an eyebrow at his behavior, but said nothing else. "Wipe that stupid smirk off your face, idiot!" Lovino burst, blush worsening as Antonio's smirk widened into a grin.

"Haha, Lovi likes Alice~."

"I knew it!" Feliciano shot it. "I _told _you, _Mamma_!"

"Shut up!"

"Lovi and Alice, sitting in a tree-"

"SHUT UP, ALL OF YOU!" Lovino roared. He instantly sat back down with a wince. Antonio's grin faltered, but Lovino waved his concern away. "I'm _fine_, I told you guys. Sheesh. Just eat your dang cookies and let's get on with the presents."

Feliciano cheered.

((((()))))

Ivan had a terrible headache. He sat up with a moan, regretting having drunk that bottle of Heineken earlier. Morozko had declared that a case of beer would be their Christmas breakfast. Although he had been the one to finish most of it off, Ivan had just tried it. He instantly regretted it once the guilt and the haze piled its way all over him.

And shortly thereafter, they were fast asleep in their car, pulled off on the side of the road somewhere. Ivan didn't even know what direction they had driven in. He had been too tired after getting up so early to call Vash and leave Montgomery to really notice. Plus, the alcohol didn't exactly help either of them.

Really, Ivan was astounded Morozko hadn't drove them into a tree yet. He had practically been living off of alcohol alone ever since he took off from Heta, and didn't seem to be slowing down any time soon. He was always drunk, and always shouting nonsense at things that weren't even there. Occasionally he'd mutter something about Natalya and Katyusha, and Ivan would have to remind him they weren't here anymore. Morozko would fall silent for a while, then start up again on an entirely different subject.

He missed his friends. Toris, Eduard, Matthew and…. Well, they had pretty much been it, but Ivan missed them all the same. He hoped Matthew had made the hockey team. He also hoped they didn't miss him too bad.

_They don't miss you at all._

Ivan frowned at the voice. The voice had popped up to say nasty things like this ever since he first took his first sip of vodka. Just to quench his thirst. It popped up every now and then when he mistakenly took a drink of something of Morozko's rather than his soda, too. Ivan didn't like it at all, or the awful things it told him. He was not a drunk. He had only drank out of necessity and on accident. The only reason he had drank on Christmas was because he hadn't wanted Morozko to feel bad. Yes, that was it. He didn't want Morozko to feel as alone as he felt.

_But you've always been alone._

"I have not," Ivan quietly argued. "I have had Katyusha, Natalya, Toris, Eduard, and Matthew. I have not been alone, silly voice."

_Doesn't mean they only put up with you because they had to._

His neutral face slipped into a frown for a moment. Ivan caught himself and cleared his face once more. "They like being my friends."

_They thought you were weird. That you were creepy and strange, and they were afraid of you. _

This time, he couldn't force the frown to leave his face. "That's not true," he mumbled, like a child put on the spot would mutter.

_It is._

"What do you, anyway?" Ivan suddenly burst. Where had all this anger come from? It didn't matter. He didn't notice the slur of his voice and didn't seem to care that he was talking to himself while Morozko snored in the driver's seat. All Ivan cared about was getting that annoying voice out of his head. He was sick and tired of listening to its lies!

He snarled and kicked the car door. "You know nothing about me or my friends," he hissed, this time locking his narrowed eyes on the roof of the car. "You are lying," he accused, punching upwards, "and lying is not nice."

_I'm merely telling you the truth. Like right now, you're just as drunk as your father._

"He's not my father!" Ivan slurred. "And I'm not like him at all!"

_You didn't just drink one can, did you? And it wasn't just on accident that you drank those other cans. You're hooked; you just don't want to admit it._

"SHUT UP!"

_It's five days until your birthday, Ivan. I guarantee you'll spend it wasted like you are now. Maybe you'll accidentally drink yourself to death. That's what happens when kids drink, you know. That's what you learned in school: drinking does bad things to kids._

Ivan furiously lashed out at anything in the car that vaguely resembled the voice. Who was it to call Ivan such things- to say he did such things? Ivan was not like Morozko at all. He refused to fall to his level. Katyusha and Natalya would be ashamed of him if he did. Ivan loved his sisters and wanted them to be happy. Thus, he would not drink.

_Just stop saying that. You're lying through your teeth to yourself. It's not healthy._

"And I guess you'd know all about lying, wouldn't you?" Ivan yawned, suddenly tired. With a start, he suddenly realized it was nearly nighttime. He rubbed his eyes and settled down in his seat, using his arm as a pillow. "I hate you, voice."

_I'm only here to set you straight, Ivan. You can't hate me for that._

Before he could respond, he found himself drifting back to sleep once more.

**Translation-**

**French-**

_**Maman- Mom**_

_**Mon petite, vous êtes bien. Merci notre Dieu gracieux, vous êtes bien.- My child, you're alright. Thank our gracious God, you're alright.**_

_**S'il vous plaît- please**_

_**Je t'aime tellement- I love you so much.**_

**Italian-**

_**È Natale- It's Christmas!**_


	27. Chapter 27

**Exams are evil. DX**

**I would have updated yesterday, but we went out to eat with my aunt… and ended up shopping for four hours. Sorry, guys. When my aunt and mother get going, it's hard to stop them.**

**Kyo: Ye poneemala vash ispankii! (Was that conjugated correctly?) Pero, no comprendo su ruso. XD Hopefully you won't stay up too late reading this chapter. Get some sleep, okay? **

**Chapter 27-**

_Morozko looked happy about this place. I will ask him to stay here until my birthday, _Ivan cheerfully decided as he followed Morozko into their new motel room. The smile on his face widened as he took in how bright and airy this room was. Morozko, of course, grumbled and pulled the curtains shut, draping them in darkness. This didn't bother Ivan at all. He was well used to it by now. Morozko dropped himself onto his bed and was snoring in an instant.

Ivan felt his way over to the window. He plastered his smiling face against the cool glass and looked out at the lovely landscape below. The land was flat and, whatever wasn't covered with asphalt roads and bridges over tiny creeks, was slightly marshy. This new place was little more than a rest stop for truck drivers on their way up the interstate, leading up to the monotonous fields of grain to come in Kansas.

He wanted nothing more than to open the window and jump down- never mind the broken bones and near crippling pain- and run. Just _run_, far, far away until he couldn't see the places they'd been behind him. Until he couldn't see Morozko or his car or hear that mean voice any more.

Actually, he was contemplating as to whether or not he'd actually do this when said voice popped up into his head again.

_You won't be able to run on those broken legs anyway, and Morozko will only get angry with you._

The bright smile on Ivan's face slipped downward into a grimace. "How many times have I told you that I do not like you? That I wish to rip you out of my head and shove you down the garbage disposal?"

_This is the fifty-second time you've told me that._

"Then you should know better. Leave me alone."

With that said, Ivan pulled the smile back to his face. The clouds here were lazily floating across the deep-azure sky, dotting the endlessness with bits of fluff. They reminded Ivan of his fluffy pillow back home.

His fluffy pillow, the warm blanket Katyusha had knitted him long ago, and the soothing chill of his bedroom floor when his feet touched it in the morning- he missed it all.

Suddenly, Ivan began humming. Today was such a good day. It was Christmas afternoon, and Ivan loved Christmas! Morozko would always sleep in late, so Katyusha came to visit them in the morning, arms full of presents. She and Natalya and their mother would laugh every time a bright smile inched its way on Ivan's face. He loved their twinkling giggles and grins.

He missed them so much.

It was a struggle to remember how the rest of his song went, and to keep his lips turned upwards.

_Don't pretend your happy act is real._

"I am very happy," Ivan spat. His tone was not very happy at all, but that was because of the voice. All of Ivan's problems were that darned voice's fault! "_You _are the one who is making me unhappy."

_Oh? And how many times have I told _you _that I'm only trying to help you?_

"How are you helping me?" Ivan yelled, drawing back from the light as if it was searing his skin. He stumbled and fell on his back. Ivan openly cursed- something he had never been wont to do before this all happened.

_You started cursing when you started drinking._

Ivan clenched his fists until he was sure they were white. "I do not drink!" he bellowed. "I am not a drunk!"

_You're also crazy._

He froze. Tears began to pool in his eyes. "I… I'm not crazy," he whispered. The silence was nearly too deafening to hear his voice over. It swallowed him in the icy darkness of the room, plunging him under the ice. Ivan curled on his side, choking out a sob. "I'm not crazy. I'm not crazy."

_Where are you now, voice? _Ivan miserably thought. _Gone, now that you've reduced me to tears? I hate you. I hate you so much._

…_You don't hate me. You hate your father._

That was the first honest thing the voice had ever said. Ivan _did _hate Morozko. He hated him more than anything else. With a sigh that reverberated through his entire being, Ivan sat up. He scowled out at the blackness before him.

Somehow, some way, he was going to find a way back home. Whether that meant jumping out a window from the third story or somehow overpowering Morozko, he would get back home to his sisters.

_Good luck._

"Shut up."

((((()))))

Tino stared after Samantha in shock, gaping at her fleeting image flying down the stairs. "T'no?" Berwald quietly asked, rumbling voice laced with concern.

The seventeen-year-old turned to them. His expression made even Peter cease his happy wrapping. "What's wrong, Mum?" Tino's nickname had been introduced to Peter by Abel. His lovely older brother claimed Tino to be the feminine influence of their bunch and, since he had practically adopted Peter, should be called "Mom". No one had expected the nickname to actually stick with Peter.

Blinking in shock, Tino shook his head. "Peter. Do you know if… uh, if Arthur was ever married to a… Samantha?"

"Samantha?" Peter asked. He tapped his chin. "I think Dad might've mentioned her once. Name's familiar, though."

"Was she, by any chance, Alfred's mother?"

Peter and Berwald's heads snapped up. "What?" they both asked, incredulous.

Tino couldn't find the words to explain it. He pulled out his phone. "Um, here, Peter. Call Alfred. I… I need to wrap this."

The boy complied, taking the phone with a confused expression. While he trailed off into the kitchen, mumbling to Alfred that he needed to hurry home, Tino found the most charming wrapping paper he had in his stash of Christmas goodness. Berwald handed him a box the appropriate size for the scarf and held the tape at the ready. "Wh't's this all ab't?" Berwald quietly asked.

"Th-that woman at the door. She handed me this, asked me to give it to Alfred. Then, she told me to tell him it was from his _mother. _It had to be her, Berwald. She looked just like him," Tino explained. "Tape here, please."

He nodded. "S're we sh'ldn't c'll Arth'r f'rst?"

"You've heard how they argue. Arthur might not like it if Samantha came by. Besides, the gift is for Alfred, not him."

Peter hopped back over. "Here's your phone, Mum. He was talking to that Russian lady and that Sash guy."

"Vash?"

"Yeah, that," he said absently. Peter was still busy recalling Samantha to his mind. He was _positive _his father had complained about her some time or another. Surely she wasn't the crazy wacko who left Arthur just a year after they were married, was she?

Somehow, Peter thought with a sinking feeling, he knew she was. Uncle Arthur was _not _going to like this at all.

And that brought a smile to his face. He would use his adorable, sparkling puppy dog eyes to woo Mum and Dad into not telling Arthur. Then, after Alfred came home and found _his _mum, Arthur would pass out from shock! Perfect revenge for leaving him so bloody long at the airport alone!

Oh, he was still livid over that incident. What if some creepy old guy had kidnapped him? Made him get fat off of candy, baked him up, and ate him? That's what Achaius told him happened to kids who were careless and got picked up by random strangers. Sometimes the bad guys would hang you upside-down from a tree and wack you with a stick! Then they'd eat you, once you were all mushy inside!

Uncle Arthur had left him to face dangers like _those?_ The brute! Any punishment Peter dished out for his uncle was surely deserved!

"Wh't're you pl'tt'ng?" Berwald's voice cut through his internal maniacal laughter.

Peter blinked innocently. However, the cute look faltered under Tino and Berwald's no-nonsense expressions. Geez. They really _were _like his mum and dad. Peter sighed. "Never mind. You two make plotting so difficult."

Berwald chuckled and patted his hat. "J'st try'n to st'p ya fr'm putt'n Arth'r in the h'sp'tal bec'se of a h'rt att'ck."

"But he almost caused me to get picked up by an old man who wanted to cook me and eat me!"

Tino laughed and pulled him back to the floor so he could help them finish with their presents.

((((()))))

"But it's all over now, Christine! Where is your dearest Sebastian to save you now?"

"What have you done with him!"

"The same as I am going to do to you- drain you dry of that delicious lifeblood running through your veins-"

"What the heck are you doing in here?" Alice burst upon walking into the coffee shop. Tavian, mouth open over Feliks's neck; and Feliks, looking up from the script in his hand; paused their rehearsal.

With a nervous cough, Tavian took out the fake fangs in his mouth and took a step away from Feliks. "Theatre rehearsal. Anyway. Why are you guys back so early? Take five, Christine."

Feliks laughed. "Like, sure, Von Dracula."

"Von _Dracus._"

"Like, whatever. Same diff."

Tavian tossed his script to a table and stepped behind the counter. "Which one of you lovely morsels wishes to aid Von Dracus in his efforts to buy decent stage equipment for his production? Oh, hey, where's Alfred?"

Matthew lips turned downward into a frown. Tavian didn't notice, nor did he notice his missing glasses. Alice did, however, and sighed. "He stayed behind for a while to talk to Lili's dad. Long story."

Feliks dropped his chin in his palms, elbows on the counter. "You've, like, gotta let me meet this Lili. I can give her the best make-over ever." He winked conspiratorially. "Imagine Lovi's face when he walks in there and sees her drop-dead gorgeous. You, like, have to let me do you too, Alice."

Alice's face burned, and she quickly occupied herself with digging out her wallet. "Two hot chocolates. Unless you want something else, Matthew?"

"I'm fine," the blonde quietly said. His voice was barely over a whisper.

Tavian blinked, finally noticing the state he was in, and pushed Alice's money back to her. "On the house. I guess we can skip on new lighting."

Matthew didn't even try to argue with him this time. It wasn't right that Tavian always paid for their drinks like this. If he was stuck here alone all the time, it must mean he needed the money, and shouldn't waste it all on them. But Matthew was just too tired. Some Christmas this was. Feliks poked Matthew's nose to get his attention. The blondes met each other's eyes. "You look good without those glasses," Feliks commented. "You look… professional. Like, older, I guess. Anyway, you should get contacts."

Matthew offered him a weary smile. "I'm too used to glasses. It'd be weird to go to contacts after so long. But thanks, Feliks."

"Any time," he positively beamed.

The bell at the door jingled open. Matthew's face immediately fell into a grimace, expecting Alfred. However, it was a woman, looking just as miserable as he. "Hey, Samantha," Feliks warmly greeted as she slouched over. "Sheesh. Ruin the mood, why don't you? Like, did you wake up on the wrong side of the bed or what?"

"Feliks, it's called realizing you're a bloody moron," Samantha moaned. She flickered her eyes to Matthew and Alice. "Hello."

Alice nervously smiled. "Hi. Um, I'm Alice, and this is Matthew."

Samantha blinked at his name. "Matthew? Huh. How terribly ironic."

_That's just what I was thinking, _Matthew inwardly muttered. Samantha was the mysterious person Arthur wanted Alfred away from. She sighed and ordered herself a mocha. "You should get a tip jar," she suddenly advised, telling him to keep the change.

"You'd be the only one to put something in," Tavian sighed. "Here you go."

Samantha took a gulp of the piping hot coffee handed to her. She winced when it burned her tongue, but only sighed. Feliks frowned, cocking his head. "Didn't go well?"

"He wasn't even home. Three blonde kids opened the door. They were babysitting this kid." Samantha dropped her face in her arms. "He was the spitting image of him," she mumbled. "He married again. Alfred's got another mother, and a brother, and _geez _am I a bloody moron…."

Her audience perked up at Alfred's name. Matthew sucked in a horrified gasp. "W-wait a minute, Samantha. Y-you're not talking about… about Alfred Kirkland, are you?"

Samantha's head bolted up. She grabbed Matthew's shoulders. "Do you know him?" A gasp. "You're THAT Matthew! You DO know Alfred! You're Francis and Jeanne's boy!" With an elated squeal, she pulled him into a crushing hug. "I should've guessed! You're practically Francis's clone! Wait a minute, that means that _was _Francis I saw a month ago! I can't believe it! How's your mother been? I haven't seen them in ages! "

She finally released Matthew from her death grip, the boy gasping in precious oxygen, and turned her sights on Alice. "You know Alfred too, don't you? Who're you? Are you Matthew's sister? Lord, Franny and Jeanne must've gotten busy after I left."

"I-I-I'm not his sister," Alice stuttered. "I'm their neighbor. Who are you?"

Samantha pulled them both into a second crushing hug. "I'm Alfred's mother!"

Tavian's jaw dropped. He met Feliks's equally stunned gape before turning back to Matthew and Alice. Matthew shoved Samantha off of him. He wore an expression of sheer horror. "You can't be-! You're not-! _You weren't supposed to come back!_"

A heavy silence fell over the coffee shop. The numb ticking of a clock in the corner pounding into their respective minds, hitting home in their hearts. Matthew's shout still reverberated in Samantha's ears. _You weren't supposed to come back! _Did that mean… her fears were confirmed? Alfred didn't want to see her? Alfred hated her as much as Arthur hated her?

_But, if there is a shred of remorse for your actions fourteen years ago, I must regretfully say that _no_, Alfred and I do _not _forgive you and your bloody selfish attitude._

He was right.

Arthur had been so _right._

"Matthew!" Feliks burst. "You can't just say that to her! Do you know how long she's, like, been looking for them?"

"Do you know how sick and tired I am of having this crappy luck?" Matthew spat back.

Their arguing didn't even faze her. Tavian and Alice put in their two cents, trying to be the peacemakers, but their voices didn't even register in Samantha's mind. Everyone's words were blurred in her mind as her world crashed down.

_Too late. I'm too late. I've wasted these fourteen years. He _hates _me. _They hate me.

The world was suddenly so cold. Samantha wished she had kept her scarf. But instead, she had given it to Alfred. He'd probably rip it apart when Tino gave it to him, since he hated her so much.

…_I didn't mean it. I was an idiot. I… I love you both. I miss you._

_I'm so sorry._

In her now monochrome world, Matthew and Feliks's arguing suddenly withered away. Alice was suddenly before Samantha, stuttering out apologies. Tavian jumped over the counter and spewed forth words of comfort.

They were all so blurred, like someone had suddenly handed her a pair of glasses far to strong for her eyes. Her eyes stung, too, and her breathing was hitched and coming out in little sobs.

_Oh. Crying. I'm crying._

"I-I'm sorry," Matthew whispered. "I didn't mean…."

Samantha shook her head. "No, no. Y-you're right. I shouldn't have come back. I… I'm going home."

Matthew caught her arm as she turned to go. "No! Wait! He… Alfred wants to see you!"

"Alfred _hates me!_"

"He doesn't!"

Exhaling slowly, Matthew shook his head. "Ever since he was a little kid, he… always asked about you. He wondered where you went and said he wanted to find you. He thought you'd be just like _Maman…._"

Samantha scoffed. "I'm hardly a saint like Jeanne."

"But you still cared as much as she did," Matthew argued. He let go of her wrist. "He should be here any minute. Then Arthur's going to come and take us home."

"Arthur is going to murder me," Samantha burst. "I swear, he bloody is."

"Then we'll use Tavian and Feliks as body shields."

"Hey!" the two cousins indignantly piped up. Alice stomped on Tavian's foot and elbowed Feliks in the ribs, immediately silencing the two.

Matthew sighed. "The point is, Samantha…. It's Christmas. If there was ever a day to see them again, it's today. I… I won't let you run away. That's what you've been doing, isn't it? You're just like me, running away from thoughts you only think are right." A weary smile broke out on Matthew's face. "And I need to apologize to Alfred, anyway. He was right."

Samantha couldn't make the words come out of her mouth. Instead, she gratefully smiled and pulled Matthew into another hug. "Thank you," she breathed. "Thank you so much."

"Thank _you,_" Samantha could have sworn she heard him say. Matthew hugged her back. "Thank you for reminding me that love doesn't die."

"You're welcome."

((((()))))

"Why would you choose _Arthur _to be our lawyer when he hasn't had a case in two years?"

Antonio helplessly shrugged. "I figured that since he was there with us at the wedding, he'd be a good help."

Aria's face was a peculiarly familiar red color. It both amused and saddened Antonio that Lovino had obviously gotten his temper from her. And speaking of his son- Antonio turned to peek into the living room, gazing fondly at Feliciano twittering away happily to Lovino. They both sat in the floor, backs against the couch. Lovino was watching his brother paint a portrait of him with rapt interest, obviously impressed with Feliciano's talent.

With a sigh, Antonio turned back to Aria. "And I think Feli will talk better to Arthur than to a stranger. Arthur knows how Feli is, and he'll take things slow with him. We're less prone to tears that way."

Hearing the exhaustion in his voice, Aria made an effort to swallow her reprieve. Antonio looked suddenly older, all traces of his smile gone from his face. She noticed the sad air about him, so like that during their divorce.

"Stop worrying," Aria softly chided. Antonio's head snapped up in an instant. "I'm… sure Arthur will do fine. I think Feli feels better about this whole ordeal anyway because you and Lovino are here with him."

"I'm not worried about Feli," Antonio said. He turned with a frown to the boys. Lovino was arguing that his nose was _not _that big, and Feliciano was laughing away despite his brother's grumbling. "I'm worried about Lovino. If he has to testify, he's going to break. I'm amazed he hasn't already. I guess Feli's to thank for that."

Aria nodded, mirthlessly smirking when Lovino jumped to his feet, declaring that Feli was a snotty brat. Feli called back that he was sorry, and jumped up to follow him as he stomped away. "They need each other, don't they?" she murmured.

"It'll be hard when we go back home," Antonio agreed.

A heavy weight dragged Aria's smirk down into a frown. Guilt crashed over her. She was the reason they would be going their separate ways. She was the reason Marco had come and hurt Feli!

Her eyes flickered to Antonio, leaving to join Feliciano in his epic journey to catch Lovino and cheer him up. The smile Aria was still so used to seeing on his face came back when Feliciano tackled Antonio in a hug. Seeing Antonio pick him up and spin him around only made the lump in her throat choke her more.

She was the reason Feli had never gotten more of those hugs.

Aria was slowly beginning to realize her mistakes of back then. What was she thinking when she though Feliciano would be happier with her and not Antonio? That he would never miss Lovino, nor revel in the joy of being close with his brother?

What was she _thinking?_

If only Roma hadn't left them at the end of that summer so long ago. Aria knew that Roma never would have let her act that way towards Antonio. He would have stopped them, brought them back together, if only for his precious grandsons' sakes.

She had also cast Lovino away from Roma. It made her even sicker to recall how Roma hugged Lovi and Antonio so tightly that day.

The divorce was the last time Roma had seen them before his death. He had never experienced Lovino's temper or seen how close Lovino and Feliciano had become in such a short amount of time. He had never seen the bright smile that lit up Feliciano's face every time he hugged Antonio.

And it was all. Her. Fault.

Aria had to make things right, somehow, some way.


	28. Chapter 28

**So, a beautiful reviewer pointed out the symbolism in this story, which is pretty big. Since chapter two, I've been referencing history nonstop. This chapter touches in on the Opium Wars, one of my favorite parts of history. I know it's terrible, but it's interesting. So I hope this translates well into the story, because it's about time we had some Yao in here!**

**Hmm… actually, I think I sort of over-killed the part with Yao. But no matter- I had plenty of sadistic fun writing it.**

**This is also a super, suuuuuper long chapter because we've spent so many chapters on Christmas that we're catching up to the holiday! So Merry Christmas, everyone, and I hope you enjoy your long chapter from me to you!**

**NO DISRESPECT MEANT IN GILBERT'S CHRISTMAS STORY.**

…**AND BLARGH, I'M SUCH AN IDIOT. If any of you already read this chapter the first time I published it and were wondering what IN MANDARIN meant… well, just know that I'm seriously an idiot, alright? XD**

**Chapter 28-**

_You're really starting to grow up, Kiku! I thought you were getting too old for books and games, so I got you an apron for when you work in the store! I know Yao fixes mostly Chinese food, so I put your name in kanji on the corner. Don't you like it?_

…_I do. Thank you very much, Aunt Tohko._

_See? You've grown up so much that you're calling me "Aunt" instead of Aunty, like you used to when you were a kid. Before long, Kiku, everyone will start calling Red Flower "Kiku's restaurant" instead of Yao's. I think you'll do a wonderful taking over the place._

_Yes. I will… do my best, Aunt Tohko._

Kiku's eyes dully darted over the TV screen. The silver Playstation controller in his hands was a dead weight.

_But I didn't just get you an apron- I got you this cookbook, right from China! It's written in Chinese, so you can practice that, too!_

_Actually, Aunt Tohko, I learned Japanese from Mother._

_That's okay. Yao and I can teach you._

He let out a ragged sigh as Tidus lost the last of his HP to Seymour's final attack. All three of his characters, whom he had trained for hours on end, fell and GAME OVER popped up on the screen. "Perhaps I should use Yuna and Lulu, instead of Auron and Kimahri…," Kiku murmured to himself thoughtfully. He could barely hear himself over his father's laughter in the dining area.

Kiku frowned. The restaurant was supposed to be closed. Why had they chosen to meet Tohko in the mall as opposed to their house? Why had the mall staff even allowed the mall be open? It was Christmas! Kiku did _not _want to spend his Christmas at Red Flower!

It was like the restaurant was more of a home than his actual house! Almost every waking hour of Kiku's day was spent in Red Flower, either hidden away in the back room to hear Yong Soo and Xiao Mei's bickering or up front and making a fool of himself in front of his classmates. How could his father _like _doing this every day? How could Tao, or his mother, or everyone else who worked with them?

Kiku wanted nothing more than to spend his Christmas at home in peace.

He flinched when his phone began to ring at his side. Kiku blinked in confusion. Who would be calling him on Christmas? Another sigh escaped his lips when he saw it was Alfred. "_Moshi moshi?_"

"Dude, Kiku, you won't believe it, man!"

A weary smile mirthlessly spread out on his face. Despite this, his voice remained as polite and amiable as possible. "Oh? What is it, Alfred?"

"My mom, dude! She came by my house and gave me a scarf! She's HERE! MY MOM IS HERE IN HETA SOMEWHERE!"

"What?" he burst. Kiku blushed, lowering his voice. "Wh-what? Your mother?"

He could just see Alfred bouncing about, nodding his head excitedly. "Yeah! Remember how I told you she left me and Dad when I was a kid? Well, she's back! She's been looking for me, all this time! It's just like on those shows- where they hire a detective and find all these people? Except, she did it all on her own. But here's the thing, Kiku. I really need your help."

_Of course._

"My dad sort of doesn't like her, so I can't let him know she's here. Well, he already knows, and apparently he's been a jerk and didn't tell me. Do you think you can possibly get your dad to come take me home?"

"Why can't you ask Matthew's father?"

Alfred scoffed. "Francis is probably sucking his girlfriend's face off. And Mattie kinda hates me right now. Long story. I tried calling Gilbert- uh, Ludwig's dad- but he sounded dead drunk. I can't call Lars because Alice probably told him I'm a jerk and he'd rather make me walk home if I made her angry. I can't call any of Tino's brothers either, because they're either babysitting my cousin right now or they'll tell Dad. Plus, Katyusha is an emotional wreck today- I've already had to witness her breakdown into tears _five times _today- and Lili's dad refuses to leave her side unless something big happens to pull him away to work. So you're really my last choice. Pleeeeeease ask him, Kiku?"

_But it's Christmas. I don't want to have to chauffer you around today. Besides, if I step out of this room, Tohko and Father are going to gush over me for an hour and force me to learn Mandarin._

However, Kiku couldn't make the words come out of his mouth. He owed Alfred, didn't he? For being friends with him when no one else would? But then again, Kiku thought with a frown, he did pull him into crazy messes. Who's to say taking him home wouldn't throw him into another crazy situation?

In the end, it all fell down to how great of a push-over Kiku was. And he was the biggest push-over Heta had ever seen. "I will see," Kiku said. "I'll call you back in a moment, Alfred. I'm very happy for you, by the way. I hope you will see her soon."

"Thanks, Kiku! You're the best ever!"

Once Alfred had hung up, Kiku miserably groaned and dropped his head in his hands. This was certainly the worst Christmas he had ever spent.

He opened the door, and instantly his family's laughter slammed into his eardrums. Everyone was smiling and talking over one another, telling old family stories and gushing over presents. Kiku politely smiled and returned every ecstatic "Hello, Kiku!" with a small hello of his own. Once he had finally wriggled free of Yong Soo's clingy hug, he helplessly stood stuttering beside Yao. "U-um, Father…."

"Kiku!" Yao happily burst. He pulled him into a hug. "How many times have I told you to call me 'Dad'? You're so stuffy, being so polite all the time! Loosen up a bit! We're all family, here!"

His surrounding aunts and uncles nodded in assent. Kiku swallowed hard. "…Dad. I-I have a favor to ask of you, if it's okay."

At his imploring look, Yao's face fell. He quickly excused them and walked to the kitchen. "What's wrong?" Yao asked, picking at Kiku's hair worriedly.

"It's, um, my friend Alfred. He… desperately needs a ride home, and… doesn't want his father to know."

Yao's eyes lit up. "Arthur's boy? Let's go."

_You decide just like that?_ Kiku inwardly burst. He blinked in surprise. Yao took hold of his wrist, grinning evilly. "Anything to get on that stupid Arthur's nerves. Where is he at?"

"D-don't you want to know _why _he needs a ride, Father?"

"Sheesh! Call me 'Dad', Kiku!"

Kiku sighed. "Dad?"

Yao pulled him into another smothering hug. "You're just so cute when you're flustered!"

_Drunk or not, you really _couldn't _ask Gilbert to drive you? Thank you, Alfred. So very much. You truly are my best friend, you know that?_

After a loud goodbye and several more bone-crushing hugs (along with a few "harmless" gropes from Yong Soo), they were gone. As Yao fiddled with the heat, shivering, Kiku uncomfortably shifted in his seat. He wasn't sure why, but being with his father was always so… awkward. Every time Yao popped up at his school for something, Kiku always wished him gone. He wasn't as embarrassing as Yong Soo- _especially _after his fiasco on the first day of school- but… he still was.

It didn't make sense. _Everyone _loved Kiku's father. They waved hello to him, and told him how much they enjoyed eating at the restaurant. Maybe Kiku was embarrassed about the fame his father brought him?

But maybe… it wasn't just that.

When Kiku was very little, he remembered seeing his father very rarely. He still worked at the restaurant, yes, but he disappeared into the backroom often and stayed there for a good hour. If Kiku was inside the backroom at the time, Yao would hold him close, like a child would to a teddy bear, and his hands would shake. Yao apologized over and over, always whispering in Mandarin, "_Yào guài jiù guài yà sè_."

Kiku hadn't understood it as a child, and didn't understand it now. The question popped up in his mind, bubbling his throat, wanting to come out. But Kiku held his tongue. It was so long ago that he remembered it happening, and thought it perhaps was nothing more than a child's fantasy. After all, Yong Soo used to have twenty-seven imaginary friends- exactly twenty-seven, Kiku vividly remembered- and gave them each very interesting names and personalities extremely similar to his family's personalities.

"What's bothering you, Kiku?" Yao asked, breaking him from his memory. He could feel his face flush. A frown spread out over Yao's face. "You know, you're always so quiet, Kiku. And you always stay locked up in the backroom. I'm worried about you."

"Sorry, Fa… Dad."

Yao turned back to looking at the road, but the frown didn't leave his face. "Is there anything you… um… want to talk about?"

_Why did you act so weird when I was little?_

"I… can't seem to figure out how to advance in my new game," Kiku said, once again stuffing the question back into the recesses of his mind.

"Oh," Yao blinked. "Well… have you tried Googling it? I'm sure Tao can help you figure it out."

Kiku nodded, inwardly pleased when silence fell over them again. This was how he liked it. No loud speaking, no annoying questions that would prove to be very impolite… just quiet. Peacefulness.

But, just his luck, Yao wouldn't have that. "Anything _else _you want to talk about, Kiku? You have a pensive air about you."

"Um…."

"Yes?"

_Don't sound so eager! You act like we never talk! …Wait. We don't ever talk, do we…?_

Kiku sighed. "I know it probably is not the time, nor is it my place, but… why did you act so… shaky… several years ago? I-I remember, and I've always wondered…."

A wave of shame fell over Kiku when Yao's face paled. His grip on the steering wheel tightened, and his knuckles turned just as white as his face. A shaky breath sighed from his lips. "That. You've been wondering about that."

Yao suddenly pulled off to the shoulder of the road. "Do you think Alfred will mind if we're a bit late?"

Kiku mutely shook his head. Yao sighed yet again, crossing his hands in lap. "_Yào guài jiù guài yà sè_," he muttered. "That's what I used to tell you, wasn't it? Do you know what that means in English? Haha… of course you don't. You never wanted to learn Mandarin. It means 'blame Arthur'. Although… in hindsight, I suppose I should have been thanking him."

His father swallowed hard. "You won't hate me if I tell you, will you?"

_Hate you? Never!_

"I will respect your decisions no matter what they may be," Kiku said with a nod. Yao weakly smiled at him and pulled him into yet another hug. It was a long while before he let Kiku go, and even then he was hesitant to do so.

"You see, in our senior year of high school, I did some very foolish things. Arthur bailed me out, so to speak. Well, after getting me _into _the mess, mind you…."

"_You're taking this too far, Yao. You need to stop."_

_The Chinese boy didn't even hear him. He sat huddled in the corner of the janitor's closet, head dropped on his crossed arms resting on his knees. Arthur frowned at the empty pill bottle at his feet. The blonde sat down, crossing his legs. "Can you even understand me? Hey, you didn't overdose, did you?"_

_Of course, there was no compassion in his voice. Why would there be, seeing as how he had been the one to introduce him to the drugs? Yao cocked his head, exposing one bloodshot eye. "Shut up," he mumbled._

_Arthur yanked him to his feet. Yao tried to push him away, but only stumbled and fell into a stack of mops and brooms in the corner. "You better be glad Mrs. Pruitt doesn't have a class this period, or else she'd come in here and see you dead high."_

"_You think I like this?" Yao hissed, folding in on himself once more. "_Wǒ hèn nǐ_, Arthur. _Wǒ hèn nǐ, wǒ hèn nǐ, wǒ hèn nǐ _."_

_The Brit shrugged. "That means 'I hate you', doesn't it? You're not the only one. But I feel a certain responsibility for you, Yao. You're my friend after all."_

"_I'm not your friend- I _hate _you!"_

"_Why?" Arthur asked simply. "Because I gave in to your wants? You told me you wanted something to take you away from your responsibilities at home, so I did. I told you to be careful that you didn't get hooked. If you took it too often too many times, that's not my fault at all."_

_Arthur didn't move when Yao's shoulders began to shake with silent sobs. "M-my father hates me now. He wants t-to give the restaurant to Tohko. I'll be causing him to br-break tradition. He and Mom will never forgive me for that."_

"_You told me you didn't want to take the restaurant."_

"_But I have to!" Yao burst, his head lolling up. He hazily locked eyes with Arthur. "Tohko… Tohko wants to act. She's already been accepted by an Arts college in California. She'll hate me too if I push the restaurant on her. It's your fault, Arthur. It's your fault!"_

_For a moment, Arthur's somber expression molded into one of worry, but it instantly snapped back. "I'll help you get off the addiction, then. Give me the rest of the pills, Yao."_

_His hand flew to his jacket's pocket. "I-I can't, Arthur."_

_Arthur scowled. "Do you want to stop this mess or not, Yao?"_

"_I can't!"_

"_I'll tell Umeko!"_

_Yao froze. Umeko… couldn't know. She was the only one who hadn't given up on him. Didn't get angry when he escaped into the shadier parts of town after school instead of reporting to the restaurant. Umeko… that beautiful Japanese girl wouldn't give up on him. There were no questions or angry outbursts when Yao didn't show up for their dates. She'd simply tell him to feel better soon, and let it slide._

_Yao couldn't let her know the truth._

"_I'll get off of it on my own," he whispered. He didn't look up and meet Arthur's disappointed gaze. Instead, Yao wrenched himself to his feet, leaning on the wall for support. "I'll… take it little by little."_

"_If you pass out, I'm dragging you to the nurse."_

_After a curt, dark glare, Yao stumbled out to the hall. "_Wǒ hèn nǐ zhème duō, yà sè._"_

_Two months later, things were slowly better. Prom came with little incident- aside from Gilbert's breakdown into tears when Elizabeta kissed Roderich. Graduation, however, had been livelier than prom. Roma came home from Massachusetts and nearly crushed Antonio Fernandez-Carriedo in a bear hug when he learned he was the sweet boy dating his daughter. Samantha Jones and Arthur enacted their annual fight with Francis Bonnefoy, which Gilbert and Elizabeta luckily broke up before the police could be called. Francis left with a black eye, courtesy of Samantha's fist after he called Arthur a few choice words._

_If Yao didn't hate Samantha just as much as Arthur, he would have cheered her on._

_Three years later, after Yao and Umeko had gotten married, things were much better._

_Yao wasn't nearly as dependent as he was in high school, and Umeko still hadn't caught on. Neither had his father, of whom Yao thankfully had reconciled with. Things were absolutely perfect._

_Until Kiku was born._

_It was impossible for Yao to look at his son without guilt crashing into him. He had nightmares of Kiku one day walking into his father's room, finding him laying limp on his bed, staring up at the ceiling in a haze. What would he say about that? Yao stopped taking the drugs, cold turkey. It didn't work. He'd mess up on orders at Red Flower, too distracted with the insatiable want to focus on work._

_He was still taking the horrid mess when Kiku was four years old. Yao had three other children, by that point. Beautiful Xiao Mei and the polar opposite fraternal twins, Tao and Yong Soo. It was nearly impossible to look at any of them when he felt the weight of a pill bottle in his pocket. It was even worse when Tohko flew in, showering her beloved brother with extravagant gifts. She always thanked him for taking the responsibility of the restaurant off of her shoulders. Yao took it all with a smile and a lie. "You don't have to thank me, Sister Dear. I love this restaurant."_

_He didn't. It reminded him of too many bad days when he'd run away and get high._

_Then, to further cripple him with guilt, he and Umeko were invited to Heta High's ten year reunion. Everyone was so happy and healthy and untainted by the terrible guilt Yao was forced to live with. Francis had somehow found a beautiful French girl. Arthur was humbled, for once, and had a bright and happy son._

_Yao wasn't jealous of Arthur's happy smile. No, he was saddened. Yao had so much more than the blonde who had condemned him. He still had his wife, more children, and a business that flourished. Yao had a perfect life compared to Arthur's._

_He _did _stop after that day. Yao was determined to smile as easily as Arthur could. He wanted Kiku to look up at him with respect the same way Alfred looked up to Arthur._

_It turned out to be the worst mistake of his life. Yao felt absolutely horrible. He could never focus, and always escaped to the backroom for hours on end, just _shaking _from the withdrawal. He would grab Kiku or Xiao Mei or the twins and simply cry and blame Arthur over and over again. He hated Arthur more than ever- for giving him the drugs, for not getting over them sooner._

_But things invariably got better. Yao could focus better, push the want to the back of his mind. He could look on and love his children without shame pushing him away. When Tohko made her annual trip to town, Yao could hug her without doubt._

_Things were finally as perfect as they seemed._

((((()))))

"Alfred, I am very sorry we are so late," Kiku burst the instant he stepped inside the hospital. He bowed low, lips trembling. "There was a terrible traffic jam, which caused us to-"

"Kiku, dude, chill! It's okay! I swear, it's like you think I'm going to shun you because you didn't instantly pop up. It's okay," he repeated. Alfred turned to Yao, still pale, with a smile. "Thanks for coming, Mr. Kiku's Dad!"

Yao sighed. "That makes me feel old, Alfred! Call me Yao."

"Sure thing, Mr. Kiku's Dad!"

Alfred was just as chipper as ever, practically skipping to Yao's car in excitement. After they were in the car, he bounced in his seat. Kiku couldn't help but smile at his friend's behavior. To use the very appropriate metaphor for this situation, Alfred was like a kid at Christmastime. His excitement seemed to rub off on Yao, bringing color back to his cheeks. "I can't believe it!" Alfred gushed for the umpteenth time. "My _mom _is here!"

"I can't believe I didn't hear her annoying accent a mile off," Yao joked with the roll of his eyes.

Suddenly, Alfred's eyes went wide. "You know my mom?"

"Of course. She used to butt into everyone's business _just _to make sure they knew her. I was no exception, unfortunately."

A smile quirked up on Alfred's face. "Could you tell me about her?" he asked, unaware that he was echoing Matthew that day at Tavian's coffee shop.

Before Kiku could politely change the subject to prevent any discomfort on Yao's part, Yao snorted. "You haven't heard about the absolute monster Samantha Jones was? She was _horrible- _had ten times the sarcasm Arthur had, and was the only girl Francis refused to acknowledge. That was some talent, on her part. And I remember the day Mr. Pritchard gave her the driver's test, too. She failed it seven times before he finally passed her simply because he was worried about his blood pressure every time he saw her get near a car. Samantha only drove like that to grate on his nerves, of course. She was just as good a driver as anyone else at sixteen back then. Ugh, and at our Junior prom…."

((((()))))

"And you're _sure _Arthur isn't home yet?" Samantha worriedly asked, wringing her hands. "Wh-what if Alfred drove home with him- oh, Lord, what if _Alfred _isn't home yet? I can't bloody well burst in there!"

Alice smiled and calmed her down, soothing her frazzled nerves. "It's alright, Samantha. Do you want me to take you home first, Matthew?"

The blonde boy blinked, shaken from his blurred stare-down with his sneakers. "Wh-what? Um… yes, please. I-it'll be alright, Samantha. Alfred really _does _want to see you. I promise."

Samantha crushed them in one final, fleeting hug, before turning back to the door. She took a deep breath. "You can do this, Jones. You can do this."

Right as she poised to knock, a loud, obnoxious laugh filled the air. "You've gotta be kidding me, Mr. KD!"

"'Mr. KD'? How many times do I have to tell you, Alfred-"

Her heart froze. Her entire body stiffened. Samantha's wide, frightened eyes locked onto the stairway, just down the hall. An Asian boy's head popped up first, hiding his chuckle with his hand. Next popped up a man that was undeniably Yao Wang, fussing at the boy behind him.

A fourteen-year-old boy popped up last. Alfred Kirkland let out another laugh, grinning widely enough to show off each and every one of his pearly white teeth. His bright, deep cerulean eyes sparkled behind a pair of brown framed glasses that sat askew on the end of his nose. The bottom of his jaw was slightly swollen and red.

Yao abruptly stopped, causing his son (Samantha correctly guessed) to also pause. Alfred ceased his laughter, locking eyes with her.

She couldn't tell who made the first step, but suddenly she was sobbing, pulling the boy as close as possible to her. "Alfred, Alfred, Alfred," she cried brokenly. He was completely still, shocked into a statue by the sudden course of events. "Alfred, I-I'm your mother," Samantha said. "I'm your mother. I'm y-your…."

A whole new round of sobbing and hugging began the second tears spilled over in Alfred's eyes. Behind the two, Yao sadly smiled and took Kiku's hand. "Our work is done," he announced quietly, leading him away. "Goodbye, Alfred!"

Alfred didn't hear- or rather, didn't acknowledge that he heard. He was too busy soaking in the feeling of his mother- his _mother! _Samantha, his mother, right here, hugging him, in his arms, in front of his house, in front of Tino, Berwald, and Peter peeking out the door with quiet smiles on their faces. She was here!

They both pulled back at the same time, wearing identical grins on their faces. "This is just like those detective shows," Samantha thickly said first.

Alfred laughed. "I just said that earlier."

He was instantly met with another embrace. Samantha shook her head, laughing in disbelief all the way. "Alfred!" she burst again. "You're Alfred! After fourteen years, on _Christmas Day_, no doubt! I just…!"

"I can't believe you're finally here," he cried for her.

"S-S-Samantha?"

Alfred and Samantha pulled apart.

Francis stood gaping, face melded into one of horror. His eyes flickered between her red, teary face to Alfred's. The Frenchman threw up his hands. "You know what? I'm just going to go back inside my home, and pretend you're not here. Matthew!" Francis called, instantly spinning on his heel away. "How about we skip bothering Arthur this lovely Christmas and spend it together drinking hot chocolate and talking about cute girls?"

"But I thought you were madly in love with Therese?"

Samantha worriedly turned back to Alfred at his sharp gasp. "Oh, crap, I forgot about Mattie," he breathed. His eyes flickered back to Samantha. "M-Mom, I'm a terrible person, and I have to go apologize to Mattie because he hates me now, 'cause I'm a hypocrite, standing out here with you because I said horrible things about his mom and… and…!"

She pulled back into the hug when he broke down into tears. "Calm down, calm down," she murmured. "Matthew's not angry with you." She cut him off when the teary protests sprang forth. "Shush. He's not. He said wonderful things about you on the way over here."

Alfred looked at her in confusion, still hiccupping. Samantha smiled and put his head back on her shoulder. "We met at Tavian's coffee shop- you know him, didn't you? Wonderful person. Feliks, too, once you get past his absurd accent- not that I should be talking." Her grin widened when Alfred laughed. "Matthew is a wonderful boy. If it wasn't for him, I wouldn't be standing here right now. I'd probably be back at home, fretting my self to death over whether or not you hated me."

Samantha suddenly frowned. "You don't hate me, do you?"

"Not a bit," Alfred grinned.

"Then you're obviously not very bright, but I love you anyways."

They both shared a laugh at that one. Alfred finally saw the trio of blonde heads poking out of his door. "Gonna let us inside, guys?"

Peter nodded excitedly, opening the door wide. "Come on! Hurry, before mean ole' Uncle Snooty-Pants comes back."

"Nice nickname, kiddo," Alfred congratulated him. He practically dragged Samantha inside. "Okay! This is Peter, my cousin. Uncle Achaius- Dad's brother, although I'm pretty sure you already knew that- is crazy and sent him to stay with us over the holidays. These two are Tino and Berwald Vainamoinen- Tino's the short, smiley one; Berwald's the tall, scary-looking one. They're my neighbors. They live next to Antonio and Lovino with their other three brothers, Emil, Nikolaus, and Abel. Antonio and Lovino- well, I guess you already know Antonio, but Lovino's his son- lives next to Francis- whom you probably know too- and Mattie. Then there's me! Alice and Lars live down the hall. Alice was blonde girl with Matthew. Lars is her older brother who takes care of her. He's always stuffy and hates spending money, and he smokes all the time."

He commenced dragging her to the living room, where he sat her down on the couch. "Do you want me to fix you anything to eat? Ugh, you don't like tea, do you? Dad does, but I think it's nasty. Especially that Earl Grey stuff. But hey! I think I still have some Starbucks in the fridge. It's the stuff you can buy in Wal-Mart."

"No thank you, Alfred," Samantha chuckled. "Lord, you're nothing like Arthur, are you?"

"Nope!" he said happily. "But seriously, I can make you a sandwich if you like…."

Tino and Peter gasped in horror at the notion. "NO!" Peter yelled frantically running over. "Ms. Pretty Lady, don't do it! He's horrible at cooking! Ugh, I was sick for days when he made me a sandwich!"

"Hey!" Alfred burst indignantly. He glowered down at his cousin. "I'm an awesome cook, thank you very much! Mattie and Alice love my cooking!"

"They're only lying to make you feel better!"

"Nuh-uh!"

"Uh-huh!"

"BOYS!"

They shied back at Samantha's shout. She cleared her throat. "I'm sure you're a wonderful cook, Alfred, but I just ate."

He sighed. "Aw, well. And she totally agrees I'm an amazing cook. So go away, you annoying little booger."

Peter scowled at him. Then he ran over to Berwald and Tino, whining to "Mum" and "Dad" all the way.

Alfred plopped down on the couch next to her, instantly unleashing a bombard of questions. Samantha had yet to answer any of them due to his rapidly changing mind switching topics far to easily when Alfred's phone began ringing in his pocket. He pulled it out, not bothering to look at the caller I.D.

Samantha and the others present in the room could hear the other person's shout as plainly as if he were in the room with them. "WHERE THE BLOODY HECK ARE YOU, ALFRED FINNIAN KIRKLAND?"

Said boy yelped, dropping his phone. He gingerly picked it back up, wincing all the way. "S-sorry, Dad, but I had to get home quick! Mattie and Alice got a ride already too, so-"

"OH, I'M WELL AWARE OF THAT! WHERE ARE YOU, ALFRED?"

"I'm home! Geez, Dad, breathe a bit, will you? You're gonna make your head explode in a minute!" Alfred scoffed. "Ugh. If you're going to be on one of your Old Man rants again, just stay at the library."

"DON'T GIVE ME THAT, ALFRED FINNIAN KIRKLAND. WHERE IS SHE? DON'T EVEN TRY LYING ABOUT THIS ONE, ALFRED- I HEARD STRAIGHT FROM TAVIAN AND FELIKS THAT SAMANTHA IS THERE."

Alfred smirked rebelliously. "Why, I'm sitting next to my mother, Dad. And might I take the time to thank you for TELLING ME SHE WAS HERE." He blinked, pulling his phone out in front of him. "He hung up on me! That stupid jerk _hung up on me_!"

Samantha paled a considerable amount. "H-he's on his way, isn't he? Oh, he's going to absolutely _flay _me."

"Don't worry about stuffy ole' Dad," Alfred instantly said. "I'll take care of you, alright, Mom?" A grin spread out on his face. "Mom. Mom!"

She shook her head in amazement. "How on earth do you change the subject so fast?"

"Years of dealing with Dad."

"Ah. I see. Well, Alfred, if you need me, I'll be hiding in a closet. Mind directing me to a comfy one?"

He didn't have time to. The front door slammed open. Arthur's entire appearance was disheveled. His hair was even messier than usual, his green eyes wide in a mix of fury and terror. He gaped open his mouth, scrabbling for something to say. Finally, out came a mangled shout, "Get away from her, Alfred!"

Alfred did no such thing. He jumped up in front of Samantha, blocking her from Arthur's view. "No! I can't _believe you_, Dad! Why didn't you tell me Mom was in town?"

His face lost every bit of its anger. "Wh-what did you call her?"

"Mom," Alfred repeated. "'Cause, you know, she kind of _is_? And you know, most kids would like to hear from their dads if their mom was around."

Arthur ignored the remark. "Peter, would you please leave with Tino and Berwald?" The boy looked like he had a few choice words for Arthur as well, but, at seeing Alfred's imploring look, huffily stepped outside, dragging Tino and Berwald out behind him. Arthur quietly shut the door behind them.

Alfred's determined look faltered just the tiniest bit when Arthur walked into the living room. Samantha stood.

The three of them simply stared at one another for what felt like hours. There was no doubt Tino, Berwald, and Peter were leaning on the door, listening to everything- likewise was Francis and Matthew, listening through the thin wall separating their apartments. Arthur spoke quietly, allowing their audience nothing. "Why are you here, Samantha?" His voice was broken, unlike that of the first time she appeared on his doorstep so very long ago.

Samantha took Alfred's hand. Both he and Arthur instantly looked down at the gesture. "I told you before, Arthur. I wanted- _needed_- to see my son. Fourteen years was far too long to be away from him."

"You left us." Arthur's quiet voice now held no emotion.

"But I regretted it," Samantha just as softly said back. Her tight grip on Alfred's hand turned shaky. "I regretted it the very next day. And… and no matter how hard I tried to forget, I… I couldn't. I couldn't." Her voice cracked, and Samantha bit down hard on her lip. "I looked for you two for _fourteen years._ I went all over the country; met so many different Arthur Kirklands and Alfred Kirklands." A dry laugh. "You have no idea how each and everyone of them broke my heart more and more when I quickly learned they weren't _you._"

Arthur shook his head. "Don't talk about broken hearts to me, Samantha."

"All that happened in the past," Alfred finally put in. He squeezed Samantha's hand. "It doesn't matter what happened fourteen years ago, because that was _fourteen years ago._ You have to learn to leave things in the past right where the are: _in the past._ Wow, I have never been this philosophical. I'm doing pretty good today with this stuff. Anyway, Dad, don't you think Mom could have changed during those fourteen years? That she really _is _sorry for back then?"

"She isn't," Arthur snapped. "She isn't, because she came here dead drunk just a month ago, spitting and screaming fire. She's not the least bit sorry, Alfred. She just wants to take you away from me."

"Then let her!"

Arthur flinched back.

Alfred shook his head, aghast. "I _seriously _can't believe you, Dad. What happened to back when I was a kid; when you used to tell me to forgive and forget? To be nice and polite to everyone, no matter how they act or look? To be a perfect little gentleman, always so courteous? What happened to the days when _you _were like that?"

He broke his scowl away from Arthur. "You know what, Dad? I give up. I'm sick and tired of this. I'm going to live with Mom."

"What?" Arthur and Samantha both burst.

"You don't mind, do you, Mom?" Alfred asked, sounding just like lonely four-year-old, desperate to see and be with his mother. "Just for a few days? Um, maybe until school starts?"

Arthur's strangled cry broke through this. "Y-you can't just up and leave, Alfred!"

"You think I can't?" he spat back, reverting back to being angry. "I'm serious, Dad! Dead serious! I refuse to stay here where you lie to me all the time! Besides, she's my _mother. _That's just as much parental guardianship as you."

When he turned to leave, Arthur grabbed his arm. "No! You are staying here, Alfred!"

Alfred wrenched his arm free. "Shut up! I don't care anymore! I hate you, Dad! Think I'm kidding? I'm _not. _I hate you more than anything." He turned and stomped to his room. Not even three minutes later, Alfred reappeared with a suitcase. "And if I can't stay with Mom," he said, "I'll find someplace else."

"No! No," Samantha burst. "You're not going out on the street."

"I'm not letting you take him!"

Samantha threw up her arms in exasperation. "Really, Arthur? After all that, and you won't even allow him one day with me? Just to cool off?"

"I'm not changing my mind," Alfred stated.

"Shut up, Alfred, you're not setting foot out of this apartment."

He bolted to the door, yanked it open and defiantly set foot into the hallway. "Really? Because I just did. I'll be down in the lobby when you come, Mom."

"Wait!" Arthur screeched. He pushed Samantha out of his way, taking off running after him. Arthur slipped on his reckless turn into the hallway and fell flat on his face. "Alfred! ALFRED!"

Samantha picked herself up off the couch and walked out. She knelt down next to Arthur, sobbing into the carpeted hallway, and pulled him into a hug. "I'm sorry," she said. "I truly am."

He threw his arms around her, crying harder. "Why did you leave?" he thickly cried. "_Why_?"

"I'm sorry, Arthur. I'm so, so sorry…."

"I loved you, Sammy. I _loved _you."

She choked on her own tears.

"I-I still love you, S-S-Sammy."

_I still love you, Arthur, _she mouthed.

((((()))))

Natalya sat at the dining room table in Katyusha's house, forehead rested against the cool glass overlooking the quiet suburban neighborhood. This quaint little huddle of small, comfy homes was where she lived, now. Neither she nor her mother had gone back to their house after the incident, and neither felt the need to do so. Staying with Katyusha was fine. Perfect, even. Natalya didn't have to hide away when she wanted to listen to music, and wasn't cautious with her words.

She was free.

But also, so very, very alone.

Natasha had been working with the police ever since Ivan went missing. She was searching all over the place, making desperate phone calls and pleas. Natalya hadn't seen her for days. No, Natalya hadn't even moved from this very spot, and didn't want to move from it. She was always looking, always hoping for that rickety old car to pull up in the driveway with her brother sitting in the back, smiling at her.

More than anything, she needed her brother.

"Natalya, come in here, quick!"

The blonde released a sigh, fogging up the window before her. No dreams coming true today, it seemed. Sluggishly, she walked into the living room. Katyusha was still garbed in her winter clothes from her earlier visit to the hospital, her nose red from the cold. She sat down on the couch, eyes lit up with glee. Katyusha patted the spot beside her. "Antonio is on TV!"

"Antonio?" Natalya asked, curiously peeking over to the TV. Sure enough, the Spaniard sat in a window display of a music shop, playing the guitar and singing. Feliciano was cheering for him, jumping up and down and practically bubbling over with excitement, in the back. Lovino stood beside him, mouth in a frown and grumbling something that the TV couldn't pick up. Finally, Aria was behind the two boys, arms draped over their shoulders, wryly smiling at Antonio's show.

"_What a brilliant display of Christmas spirit by local legend Roma Vargas's son-in-law, Antonio Fernandez-Carriedo, at the Natick Mall in Boston, Massachusetts. Father of the ten-year-old Feliciano Vargas in the recent child abuse case and hero of the case Lovino Fernandez-Carriedo, Antonio promotes the local music store, saving it from bankruptcy this Christmas season. Owner of the store says he and his family popped in for a visit and nearly bought his entire collection of Meatloaf CD's. Upon hearing the store was having a going-out-of-business sale, Antonio picked up a guitar and has been playing to attract customers for more than four hours now."_

Natalya cocked a disbelieving eyebrow. "Four hours? How are his fingers not bleeding yet?"

"He's Spanish," Katyusha explained, as if that were all that was to it. She sighed. "Doesn't he just have the most amazing voice, though?"

"Whatever."

((((()))))

"Hey, _Kuzyn, _think we, like, did a bad thing, telling Arthur where they went?"

Tavian didn't even look up from his book. "I figure that it was about time Samantha had something go right for her. And what were we supposed to do, tell Arthur that Alfred was magically going to lock him out of the house for a few hours for no good reason? They'll be okay."

Feliks wasn't so sure, but shrugged anyway. He propped his chin up on his elbows, staring at the light snow drifting softly to the streets outside. "This has been the most interesting Christmas in America yet, you know?"

"Beats hanging out with Grandpa and singing off-key, doesn't it?"

The two cousins looked away from their points of interest to exchange a smile.

((((()))))

"Are you sure you don't want some of this chocolate, _Vati_? It's very good," Lili offered, grinning to expose chocolate-coated teeth.

Vash smirked at the sight, focusing on the mess around her mouth rather than the scarf on her head. He pulled out a few tissues on the table beside him and wiped her mouth. "You're so messy," he jokingly chided. "Have some lady-like manners, will you? It's unbecoming to eat like this."

Lili let out a twinkling laugh, lighting up the entire hospital as she did so. "Aw, but it's Christmas, _Vati_! Ooh, look, here's a cherry cordial, you're favorite!"

With a dragging sigh, he accepted the round piece of chocolate and ate it. After swallowing the deliciousness, he poked at the box. "Hmm. It appears you were right. This is very delectable."

"Another, _Vati_?"

"If you insist, Lili."

He loved her laugh.

((((()))))

Heilrich knew the instant that the soft hum of his new violin resonated through the house that it was finally tuned and ready to be played. A light in his eyes, he flew downstairs to the living room. The rosewood violin was perched on Roderich's shoulder as he pulled the bow across the strings, erupted forth new sounds that graced the room's air. Roderich smiled at Heilrich's silent excitement. "Tuned and ready," he announced, presenting the violin and bow.

The blonde boy's face lit up with a smile as he adjusted it on his shoulder. Roderich strayed over to his piano. "Care to come sing with us, Elizabeta?" he asked. At her nod, Roderich spread out the sheet music to where Heilrich could see it. "Silent Night is easy," he suggested.

He frankly didn't care what song they did, so long as he could finally play. Heilrich had been wanting his own violin for years now, learning the chords on the old ebony violin Roderich sometimes played.

Elizabeta cleared her throat and began to sing. "Silent night, holy night. All is calm, all is bright…."

((((()))))

"…and then, after the angels left these poor shepherd guys, they all decided they were going to go see the baby Jesus in Bethlehem. They rode their little donkeys as fast as they could, braving sandstorms and blizzards and boa constrictors-"

"Vati, that is _not _how the Christmas story goes."

"Shut up, Luddy. This is _my _version."

Ludwig sighed. "But there aren't any boa constrictors in Judea. _Especially _back then."

Gilbert closed his bible and scowled up at Ludwig behind a thin, pretty much useless pair of reading glasses. "How do you know? Where _you _in Judea when Jesus was born? I think not. Now stop interrupting, I'm getting to the part about the kings!"

"You know, if you actually read Luke in the bible, you'd know that the three wisemen didn't come to see Jesus until he was three, after Mary and Joseph took him and fled to Egypt to escape King Herod's wrath."

"Psh, but everyone says the wisemen were there. It proves that poor people and rich people alike have Jesus as their savior."

"But it's not correct…."

"Who cares! It's the meaning that counts! So, back to the story! After the shepherds barely survived a daring attack by pirates, they finally came to the stable where the baby Jesus was…."

**Translations-**

**Mandarin-**

_**Wǒ hèn nǐ zhème duō, yà sè- I hate you so much, Arthur.**_


	29. Chapter 29

**I SHARE MY BIRTHDAY WITH RUSSIA. GO ME. XD**

…**People, please. Go read "Dear West" by Neko-Nya. And, since we're on a roll, "Seven Pieces of Chalk" and "Hello Hurricane", both by Lady Charity, need to be read too. So there we are, people! A reading list for the rest of your winter break! **

**Note: The Teatr Narodowy is a famous theatre in Warsaw, Poland.**

**Hmm… I didn't think I'd have this up before Christmas. So… Happy Holidays… again? XD**

**Chapter 29-**

**Five Days Later**

At first, upon waking up to the room's light blaring down on him, Ivan once again fruitlessly imagined himself at home, laying in his bed. But of course, the rickety Kansas motel was nothing like his house.

Letting out a mighty yawn, Ivan sat up and immediately turned to the window to judge the time. It was dark.

Confusion settled over him. If it was still nighttime, why was the light on? Terror replaced the confusion when he realized he was alone. Ivan swung his legs over the side of his bed, armed with a pillow. Morozko's bed was not made, but the covers were carelessly drawn up, as if he'd made some effort to show Ivan he was gone.

…He was alone. Alone. Alone, because Morozko was not there!

A wide smile unfurled on Ivan's face. "He's gone!" the boy cheered. He ran over to the door- completely ignoring the fact that he was still in his pajamas- and swung it wide open. The rusted balcony outside was cold to the touch, but it was so, so _warm _under his palms. Ivan leaned over the rail, smile growing by the second. "Morozko is GONE!"

"Shut up, boy. I'm still here. Get inside; you'll catch your death out here being barefooted like that."

Ivan's hope crumbled away. He turned to see Morozko walking towards him, a strange hulking gray and white mass trailing after him. Ivan's violet eyes went wide to see it was a _dog _being led on the bright red leash Morozko held. He obediently walked back inside, holding the door open for Morozko and the curious dog. It was a Siberian Husky with icy blue eyes, a pink tongue that was happily hanging out of his dark mouth, and a coat that was incredibly fluffy- Ivan could tell without even petting it. Which he immediately did.

"Where did you find her?" Ivan asked. He actually had no idea whether or not it was a girl or boy, and thought it rude to check so abruptly. If it _was _a lady, Ivan would be terribly rude.

"It's a him. I found the thing wandering around outside. I figured you want it to keep you company."

He looked up incredulously. "You took a dog off the street and you're giving it to me?"

Morozko shrugged, unraveling his scarf. "Today's your birthday, isn't it?"

Ivan blinked in surprise. Was it December 30th? He mentally counted back the terribly dull days that had passed since Christmas. Yep. That was five days ago, making today undoubtedly his birthday. He was fifteen today, and his father had (most likely) stolen a Siberian Husky for him.

On his birthday.

A childlike glee suddenly overtook him. He burst into a wide smile again and threw his arms around the dog. "Thank you! You are now Grigori, da? Do you think Grigori will like Little Debbie cakes, Father?"

"I'll go out and buy dog food tomorrow. Take him for a walk later."

Again, Ivan was stunned. Taking Grigori for a walk would entail… _leaving. _Morozko noticed his look and scowled. "You haven't run away yet, so I figure you're too cowardly, da? You won't do anything drastic because you're too afraid."

_That isn't true, is it?_

He had half expected the voice to answer him, but the voice was either sleeping or giving him the silent treatment today. Ivan was happy with either one. He stood up, leading Grigori over to his bed. The dog hopped up and set his head on Ivan's leg, looking up at him in interest. "That's right! I'm your new owner. My name is Ivan Braginski. You're my dog now, da? You have a few rules. One: no biting me. Two: you must listen to me. Three: you better not have fleas."

Morozko rolled his eyes, pulling out a beer from the small fridge. He tossed it to Ivan. "Here. Happy birthday. I'm going to sleep, so don't bother me."

Ivan did not move until the light flickered off yet again. He pulled Grigori close to him. "You must be very quiet now, Grigori. Morozko is a very mean person if you wake him up. It is not fun."

Grigori crawled up closer to Ivan, curling up at his side. He let out a quiet whine, which Ivan quickly quieted, throwing a worried glance through the darkness at where his father lay. Before Ivan could scold him for so blatantly ignoring his order, Grigori snuggled up to his side. His gaze turned sad as he met the reflections of Grigori's eyes. "He took you from your home too, didn't he?" Ivan whispered. "I don't know if today is your birthday or not either, but I'll just say it is. So next year, I'll be sure to get you a friend, since you're my friend now. You know, you're my fourth friend, Grigori. You're the only one who's here, though."

Ivan sighed and put his arms around the dog's neck once more. "We'll prove him wrong in the morning, Grigori. We'll show him that I'm not a coward."

And right as Ivan closed his eyes, breathing in the warmth radiating from Grigori, the voice resounded through his head.

_But you _are _a coward._

((((()))))

Samantha found it odd and a little unnerving how easily she adapted to having Alfred around her house. He'd been shockingly quiet ever since she had came down from the forth floor, eyes red, still hiccupping. Alfred refused to talk about Arthur in any way, shape, or form.

And honestly, Samantha was alright with that.

"Alfred, I'm sure my couch has had it up to here with your butt sitting on it all day," she called from the kitchen. "Go do whatever it is kids your age do today."

"Mom, I _am _doing what kids my age do today: sitting around all bored, watching TV, being lazy."

"If you're bored, go shovel the driveway."

He bolted off of the couch, and was at her side in a second. "Seriously? Sweet! Where's the shovel?"

Samantha leaned back against the counter, crossing her arms. She cocked an eyebrow. "I find it highly unbelievable that you're so eager to do manual labor. You aren't planning some crazy idea to take over the world with a shovel and some snow, are you?"

"Psh," Alfred waved, "now, would I ever do something like that, Mom?"

"Wouldn't put it past you, kid," she muttered. With a sigh, she led him over to the foyer. "While you do my driveway, I'll be doing my neighbor's, alright? Be a good little evil mastermind and don't take over the world without me, alright?"

Before Alfred could indignantly shout "I'm no evil-doer; I'm the superhero!", Samantha threw a thick jacket at his face. Next, while was occupied with putting it on, she twisted the purple scarf around his neck and pecked a kiss on his forehead. "Off you go, now."

A small smile lit up Alfred's face as he followed her outside. He instantly set to working, the grin still lighting up the surrounding area. Samantha shook her head bemusedly. This boy was _definitely _not what she had been expecting. Although admittedly her thoughts had been mostly centered around finding Alfred and Arthur, Samantha did wonder sometimes just what Alfred was like. The mere thought of it scared her to death, but she had figured he would be Arthur's clone; be a little kid walking around with the utmost dignity and polite air about him that more often than not was merely a façade put up for appearances. Although she had been spot on in regards to the temper, it astounded her that Alfred absolutely _hated _tea.

And being friends with Yao and his son? Mind blowing.

No sooner than Samantha had dug her shovel into the snow did Alfred shout out. Her head snapped back with a worry. Was Arthur back? Was some maniac after her Alfred?

Her panic vanished when she noticed he was reading his texts.

Some productive teenager _he _was.

Alfred looked up, waving his phone around. "The court case is starting!" he announced loudly. "Peter stole Lovino's phone. He said Feli's already burst into tears twice, and he hasn't already gotten up to testify yet."

Samantha barely knew _any _of these people. Antonio and Aria, yes. Lovino, few memories- most being ecstatic gushes over the phone from Antonio. But Alfred had quickly filled her in. In fact, that was how he had entertained himself on their way to her house Christmas afternoon. He was sure to leave out every bit he could about Arthur and Matthew, still sure that his friend hated him. Alfred was too stubborn to listen to Samantha when she said otherwise.

That was another he and Arthur were alike, she noticed. They were both pigheaded and stubborn in their own right.

…Maybe they were more alike than she had accounted them for.

While Alfred completely blew off the work he had been so eager to do just seconds ago, Samantha rolled her eyes and continued clearing Mrs. Dubose's driveway. She was bound to come home any day now, and Samantha couldn't wait to throw Alfred at her.

"Ooooooh," Alfred drawled lowly. Looking over her shoulder, she saw him wince at what he had just read. "Lovino got kicked out of the room. He cursed at Marco's lawyer for accusing him of wailing on Marco for no good reason. Oh! Aria's up on the stand now. Peter says she's not very happy with the lawyer either."

Alfred's mouth suddenly gaped short of reading the next text. He shut it solemnly. "…Dad just called an objection. Says the case is about Feli, not Lovino."

Eyes narrowing at the next message- which Samantha just _knew _was something along the lines of "Uncle Farty-Pants/Artie-Farty/Pansy-Man is acting weird because of you, you wanker/jerk/stupid-head, and Antonio's all weirded out by it"- Alfred hotly texted back, stuffed his phone in his pocket, and resumed shoveling.

Samantha also found it strange how well she could read his mind.

"Peter will be sad if you blow him off like that," Samantha commented. She didn't look back, but heard Alfred fall back against the side of the house with a tired huff.

He had a half-hearted retort on the tip of his tongue, but didn't let it loose.

"Finish the walkway," she said softly, "and we'll go back inside for some hot chocolate and a Disney marathon, alright?"

"…Only for the Disney."

And, with their howling laughter, all was right with the world again.

((((()))))

"Are you _sure _I should be here, Matthew?"

"Well, if I figured you'd rather come with me instead of staying behind with Papa and Therese."

"And Shelly, hon, I'll, like, do your hair and nails, too!"

"Are you sure we had to bring _him _along, Matthew?"

"Like, that's totes not nice."

Matthew sighed, asking himself the same question. Why _had _he stopped by to pick up Feliks on their grand adventure to visit Lili? Of course, he already knew the answer. Lili would be incredibly sad if Matthew told her the truth as to why Alfred hadn't come, so he needed Feliks to keep her nice and distracted. It made him feel awful, but he didn't want her to know the truth. She'd feel just as terrible as him, and that was the last thing Matthew wanted for her.

He also hoped Lili was right- that her father was off to work this fine morning.

If not… well, Matthew was sure Feliks had had a good life.

Before Matthew could knock on the door, _politely_, Feliks butted in front of him and swung the door wide open. "Lili, dear! You, like, have guests!"

Lili's eyes were wide in shock. Matthew instantly set to apologizing, but again Feliks jumped ahead of him. "Oh, you have the prettiest eyes!" he gushed, setting his boxes of nail polish and makeup down. "They're, like, such an amazing blue color. Hmm… you know, I think a pale pink would, like, complement your eyes soooo well." Feliks took chose a box and set to digging around in it.

"I-I'm sorry, Lili," Matthew finally apologized with a nervous laugh. "Feliks is a friend of ours. He said he's going to give you a make-over."

"O-oh," she stuttered lightly, absently picking at her head scarf.

Michelle stepped up next with a quiet grin. "I'm Michelle. I'm… well, I'm Matthew's dad's girlfriend's daughter. Really confusing, right?"

Finally a smile popped up on Lili's face with a flittering giggle. "Not _all _that confusing. I'm glad to meet you both."

Feliks paused his search to flash her a smile. He instantly resumed digging through his things.

"So, Alfred and Alice are busy today?" Lili lightly asked.

"Um… yeah. Alfred's visiting family, and Alice is completely focused on reading about the case today," Matthew said. His lips trembled from the white lie, but he grinned to try and make it less obvious.

Lili nodded. "So, is everything going okay?"

Feliks produced his phone. "Peter's been, like, sending everyone texts. You can read it if you want."

"Peter is Alfred's cousin," Matthew explained.

"Then… Alfred is in Massachusetts?"

Matthew mentally smacked himself. "Ah… no. J-just Arthur and Peter."

Michelle, bless her, picked up. "He complained about the long trip, so he stayed behind to hang out with other family instead. Alfred called a while ago and said he was in an epic snowball match. He said he's sorry he couldn't come."

To say the least, Matthew was shocked. How could she lie so blatantly to a girl with cancer?

Feliks let out a triumphant "Aha!" upon finding all of the right colors he needed. He set to work, covering her face with a pale tan foundation. "I, like, totally used to give my friend makeovers like this," he said softly. "She had about the same skin tone as you, so that's why I have all the right stuff. It's kind of pathetic, really, 'cause she, like, never did herself justice by putting makeup on herself. She always made me do it." Feliks smiled sadly, the memory clouding over his eyes.

Lili sneezed when the powder flew up her nose. Feliks laughed. Everyone noticed it was a bit forced. "That always happened to her, too! Hey, Shelly? You can, like, start on her nails. I've got every color of the rainbow, hon. What do you want, Lili dear?"

"Um… how about a rainbow of colors, actually? It might actually add some color to this place."

Feliks paused, mouth slightly agape. He quickly shook his head and resumed brushing pale eye shadow on her eyelids. His hands were shaky. "Like, you're totally right, Lili dear. This place needs all the color it can, like, get. Just like the Teatr Narodowy. _Pojechaliśmy tam latem ubiegłego roku, pamiętasz_?"

He froze. Feliks dropped the brush he'd been holding in favor of slapping his hands over his mouth. "_Och nie_," he whispered. "_Dlaczego tak się dzieje teraz_?"

Stumbling back, Feliks looked at each of them with terrified eyes. "I-I'm sorry. I've g-got to go."

"F-Feliks?" Matthew stuttered.

Nearly shoving Matthew to the floor, Feliks broke into a run out the door. "_Toaleta… toaleta…. Gdzie jest toaleta?_"

With shaking hands, he pulled out a sharpie from his jacket pocket. "_Nie... opuścić. Pobyt_," he muttered as he wrote. He could already feel a headache forming, his mind switching around. By the time he finally found the privacy he needed, his vision was blinking out. He locked the door behind him and slid down to the floor. "Why why _why_?"

Feliks dropped his face in his hands, shoulders shaking with frightened tears. _Why are you doing this to me, Anelie?_

…Seconds later, Anelie lifted her head, staring around in shock. She looked at the smeared sharpie on her hand- _…Did my hand suddenly, like, grow or something?_- and frowned. It looked like Feliks's scrawled handwriting. "Don't leave? Stay put?" she muttered aloud. It didn't register in her mind that her voice was lower, too.

What kind of weird game was Feliks playing with her now?

((((()))))

"DARN IT! ANSWER THE DANG PHONE, YOU _IDIOTA_!"

"L-Lovi, don't be so loud! I'm trying to listen-"

The boy cast an annoyed scowl at his father. Antonio stared obliviously back, his ear pressed to the door separating them from the courtroom. Lovino growled and fell back against the wall. "I _hate _Alfred when he sulks. He acts like such a freaking baby."

Antonio opened his mouth to interject, but Lovino sighed and flipped out his phone once more. "What are you doing?" Antonio asked, peering over his shoulder.

"Fixing things. Darn it, it's hard to text with one hand…."

Both suddenly started as they heard Savanna Amely, Marco's lawyer, call Feliciano to the stand. Antonio and Lovino stuck their ears back to the door. "If she accuses him of something stupid like me, I swear I'm going to-"

"Shush! I'm trying to listen, Lovi!"

Lovino's phone dinged when he got a reply. A grin spread out over his face. "Alright. One problem down."

"What do you mean, Lo-?"

"Shut up! I'm trying to listen, _Papá_!"

Antonio sighed.

((((()))))

"…Do you think Feliks is alright?" Lili's quiet voice asked.

Michelle frowned at the door, leaning her elbows on the foot of Lili's bed. "I hope so. What was that all about, you wonder?"

The thin girl shrugged, picking at the end of her scarf once more, like it was a substitute for picking at her hair. Michelle frowned, eyes trailing to her own long hair, hanging over her shoulders in its usual pigtails. With a quiet sigh, Michelle plastered a smile to her face and pulled out the bright red ribbons, releasing her rippling hair. She looked up to find Lili staring.

A faint blush not caused by Feliks's unfinished makeover appeared on her cheeks as she quickly looked away, muttering out a nearly silent apology. Michelle shook her head. "Do you want to braid it?"

"Wh-what?"

"My hair," she said.

Lili's lips curled up just a fraction. She scooted over to give Michelle room to sit down beside her. "Your hair is very pretty," the blonde commented. She combed her frail fingers through it, pulling out any stray tangles Michelle's frantic brushing hadn't caught that morning.

Michelle made small talk as Lili picked and pulled at her hair, tucking it into a thick French braid. She explained that had always been her favorite braid. "I don't do much with my hair," Michelle chuckled. "It's just so thick, you see."

"But it's so shiny," Lili commented. "My hair was always so light, so you couldn't see the pretty highlights yours has. You know, I think your hair would look nice in a bun. Just a big, messy thing on top of your head."

They both shared a laugh. Lili was starting to sound hoarse, Michelle noticed. "Do you want me to get you a dri-"

"Lili, I brought you some lunch."

Both girls froze, heads snapping to the door. Vash stepped in, carrying bags of take out from Red Flower. The blonde paused, eyes landing on Michelle. "U-um, hello, Sir."

Vash, still confused, turned to Lili for an explanation. "She's one of Matthew's friends. She came to visit me and give me a makeover. Wasn't that nice, _Vati_?"

To both of their surprise, Vash wearily smiled. He dropped the food off on the side table and shook Michelle's hand. "Thank you for coming. It's about time someone besides those crazy boys came."

"_Vati_," Lili sighed.

It so figured Vash would only care about that.

((((()))))

Natalya's glare turned outright murderous. She slapped her hands down on the counter. "I _know _that you know where he is, Mr. Lupei."

"No I don't!" he squeaked, backing up from the blonde. Tavian cleared his throat, but it did nothing to take his voice back to his usual pitch. "I-I swear! I have no idea where Samantha lives!"

"My sources tell me differently," she snarled. "This is of the utmost importance to me. I absolutely must find and speak with Alfred Kirkland."

"C-c-can't you call him?"

"NO!"

Katyusha, watching the spectacle over a cup of hot chocolate, knew that as the legal adult she should do something about her sister. However, she couldn't bring herself to do anything to control her. It warmed Katyusha better than the cocoa to see Natalya _do _something besides sulk in silence. Even if she _was _about to murder poor Tavian.

Natalya shot out her arm and grabbed the front of Tavian's shirt, pulling his utterly terrified face up to hers. "Tell me. Now."

"F-F-F-F-Fifth Street," he stuttered out, eyes locked on the centimeter of distance between their noses. "T-t-t-t-the blue house on the l-l-l-l-l-left. There's a m-m-m-m-mailbox with 'Jones' on it.'

A grim Cheshire grin slowly unraveled on her face, turning her pale lips into a malicious expression. "Thank you very much, Tavian, for your support," she said sweetly, her words coated in poison, like she was the crazed lunatic father in _The Shining_. Or like she was about to murder Tavian slowly and leave him in a ditch someplace far away to rot.

Face as white as Death's face, Tavian whimpered and slid to the floor when she released him.

"_Sestra_, I have his address," Natalya announced unnecessarily.

Katyusha nodded, patting down any fly away hairs her sister had acquired as a result of her interrogation. "_Do svendanya, _Tavian!"

"…Uh-huh," he weakly sounded, still somewhere huddled in the floor behind the counter.

((((()))))

"They just called for a recess, Lovi," Antonio announced.

Lovino nodded and poked his head experimentally inside. Those seated were rising with yawns and stretches, blocking Marco, Feli, Aria, and Arthur from view. Lovino felt an annoyed scowl come over his face. "That blonde chick has half an hour," he muttered.

Peter wriggled his way out of the mass and popped up before the two, faithfully holding out Arthur's phone. "I stole his after you took yours back," the child proudly boasted.

Right on cue, they heard Arthur's angry howl: "PETER KIRKLAND!"

Lovino took hold of the boy's shoulder, redirecting attention to himself. "You still haven't gotten hold of Alfred again?"

"He texted me that they were going to watch Tarzan and turned off his phone. Did you get Kiku?"

"No. Busy day at Red Flower. Alice was home alone because Lars had… business. Probably something illegal, that ugly jerk. Tino and Berwald and everyone else had something going on. I finally got Natalya to interrogate Tavian as to Samantha's whereabouts. She said she'd have Alfred call and apologize before the recess within the hour."

Peter sighed in relief. "Good. Because Uncle Arthur isn't doing well at all," he muttered, looking forlornly back to the blonde Englishman in question.

Lovino frowned. "No. No he isn't."

_Because they're really starting to believe Feli was making this all up._

**Translations-**

**Polish**

_**Pojechaliśmy tam latem ubiegłego roku, pamiętasz?- We went there last summer, remember?**_

_**Och nie- Oh no.**_

_**Dlaczego tak się dzieje teraz?- Why is this happening now?**_

_**Toaleta… toaleta…. Gdzie jest toaleta?- Bathroom… bathroom…. Where is the bathroom?**_

_**Nie ... opuścić. Pobyt.- Don't… leave. Stay.**_

**Spanish**

_**Idiota- Idiot**_

**Russian**

_**Do svendanya- Goodbye**_


	30. Chapter 30

**So! I hope everyone had an awesome Christmas! Mine wasn't so awesome, because both my sister and I got sick and we weren't there to see my cousin (on my mom's side of the family) propose to his girlfriend. Instead, we got to see my cousins on Dad's side of the family reenact WWE wrestling in my grandparents' living room.**

**Gosh I love those kids.**

**Kyo, I love your reviews. I seriously do. Rambling and all. :D The Russian… was a lie? …Oh well, I'm sorta… not really learning Russian. I went crazy for about a week, going on a spazzy IMA LEARN ME SOME RUSSIAN NOW! crack down. Now… I've kinda lost the will to learn, because Russian grammar is just a Falcon Punch to the face. Seriously. **

**NOTES: Georgio= Seborga, Karamat= Turkish Republic of Northern Cyprus, Wendy= Wy, Kyle=Australia. Georgio is the same age as them because he's supposed to be younger than Feliciano.**

**Chapter 30-**

Feliciano didn't like the look on Aria's face. She was frowning, eyes narrowed- but her eyes were filled with sadness. When she rose up from her seat, it was with a heavy sigh. "Feliciano, I'm going to run home for a moment, okay?" she asked, taking his hand. "I want you to stay close to _tuo papà e tuo fratello, o Arthur._"

He certainly didn't like that, either. But Feliciano nodded, and allowed her to lead him over to where they stood. Arthur, already weary for reasons he wouldn't tell them, was halfheartedly reprimanding Peter for stealing his phone. Lovino was biting his lip, exchanging worried glances from his phone to Arthur and back. Antonio, it seemed, was the only one not plagued by tumultuous thoughts.

Almost in an instant, his other family popped up. Feliciano was slowly but surely pushed away from Antonio and Lovino, carried away with the crowd. With the entire Vargas Clan together in one corner of the courtroom, they blocked everyone else from Feliciano's sight.

_Oh, _the boy noticed when Herakles, with his broad shoulders, moved in front of him. _They're making sure Marco can't see me._

"Do you want to come to my hotel room after this, Feli?" Herakles was asking him. "I brought Whiskers, Paws, Tails, and Furry with me."

Feliciano beamed a weary smile up at him. "Sure."

But there was something wrong, he noticed. Feliciano furrowed his eyebrows. There was someone _missing_….

"Herakles?" Gupta quietly asked, suddenly materializing at his side. The Egyptian patted Feliciano's head as he spoke. "Our sisters would like to know where Sadiq is."

So _that _was who was missing. Feliciano _knew _there was something amiss when Sadiq didn't butt in and make fun of Herakles's cats!

An expression of pure evil darkened Herakles's face. "Sadiq, Persia, Georgio, and Karamat are probably in the middle of a cornfield in Kansas right now. Sadiq had a bit of a mix up in getting his plane tickets at the airport and accidentally got on the wrong plane. Persia and Georgio just made a bad choice in accompanying him."

"You switched his plane tickets?" Feliciano burst.

"Nope. I paid the nice lady at the ticket window to give him the wrong tickets. I lost a few thousand dollars, but it was worth it. _So worth it._"

Gupta sighed. "I'll tell them he's caught up in traffic."

And just as quickly as he had appeared, Feliciano's uncle disappeared into the sea of Italians. Herakles patted Feliciano on the shoulder. "I'm going to find Lovino. He made a terrible grade on his… his…-" Herakles paused his sleepy teacher rant in order to let out a long yawn. "On second thought… I'm going to take a nap."

When he also disappeared, Feliciano's lips curled up into a smile. He leaned back against the wall, sliding down to the floor. Aunt Tia had found Uncle Herakles and was chewing him out for providing implications to Sadiq's arrival. Grant and Jackson, thankfully, were nice enough to politely ignore him instead of getting Feliciano into a headlock and giving him a noogie. Lovino, somewhere in the crowded mess, suddenly yelled out for them to stop freaking hugging him already, because his chest hurt, you bunch of-! And by that point, Antonio slapped his hand across Lovino's mouth and chirped out an apology before moving on, fruitlessly searching for his other son.

But suddenly, the friendly chatter and boisterous cackling died in an instant. The smile slipped off of Feliciano's face. He stood, standing on his tiptoes to see what had caused the sudden change. Thankfully, the rest of his family (aside from Herakles) was very short, so Feliciano could see if he climbed up on top of one of the court benches.

They were each glowering at Marco as he passed by them. The Bulgarian fervently ignored them. Welling up with courage at seeing his entire family on his side now, Feliciano stood up tall and stuck his tongue out at Marco. By the time the man saw and gaped, eyes darkening, Feliciano had ducked back to his spot in the corner, silently giggling.

If his cousin Georgio was here right now, the nine-year-old would crow out at the top of his lungs, "MARCO SUCKS!" and join Feliciano in his snickering. Karamat wouldn't be so brash, but he would stand tall with a smirk, _daring _Marco to fight his way past him now.

Despite the seven times Feliciano had burst into tears that morning when Arthur and Marco's lawyer yelled at each other, he felt like today was the best ever. Everyone was here! Well, except Uncle Sadiq and Aunt Persia, but they had meant to be here, so it was alright.

Once Marco had left, the noise commenced once more.

Feliciano looked up with happy tears in his eyes. "Are you watching this, _Nonno_? We're all together, just how you liked us all to be. We're not fighting amongst ourselves or crying. We're loving each other. Isn't that what you had always wanted?"

He laughed when warm chills ran over his arms. It almost felt like there was someone hugging him- like _Roma _was hugging him.

_I miss you, Grandpa, but I'm not sad anymore. You made Lovino and _Papà_ come back, and you made sure Lovino found me in time at the wedding. You're still watching out for me, aren't you?_

Ringrazio Dio che ti ho avuto per un nonno.

((((()))))

It felt _weird _to walk down the street, leash in hand, winter sun blasting down on him. Ivan trudged on in a daze, still in shock. He had to force himself not to turn back to make sure his father wasn't glaring after him. Morozko had went back to sleep. He frankly didn't care a bit that Ivan was on his own.

Ivan gripped Grigori's leash tightly, following where the dog led him. The Husky seemed to have a destination in mind as he trotted peacefully across the street to a small restaurant. The food smelled delicious, and Ivan wished he had enough money to go eat there. Although, he thought with a frown, they probably wouldn't let him take in Grigori.

There were three families standing in the restaurant parking lot. Grigori seemed to like these people, because he instantly took off running, yanking Ivan after him.

A tanned man dressed in a fancy Armani suit was bent over the hood of an old pickup truck. An elderly woman stood by him, lips pursed at the sight. Three children sat on the sidewalk. They each looked to be about seven or eight-years-old. The girl in the middle had an art book in her hands, coloring with the crayons half spilled out of their box at her feet. The dark-skinned boy beside was watching intently, eyebrows raised high, obviously impressed with her picture. The last child, a boy with dark honey hair, sat _very _close to the girl. His face was mere centimeters across from hers, and his eyes were trained on her concentrated expression rather than her drawing.

Grigori bounded up to the children, stunning the trio into looking up. "Grigori!" Ivan burst when the Husky gave the girl a lick to the face. He worriedly looked to her to gauge her reaction. Relief melded his lips into a smile when she laughed. Ivan tried to pull the dog away, but Grigori sat down, firmly planting himself to the asphalt.

The girl set aside her book and looked up at Ivan. "Your dog is cute, Mister!" she said. "Can I pet him?"

Ivan blinked. "Sure," he said, once again feeling weird to be conversing with someone normally.

"My name is Georgio!" the boy who had been drooling over the girl grinned, jumping up to his feet. "He's my cousin Karamet. That's my Uncle Sadiq over there, helping Wendy's grandma with her truck. Oh, Wendy is this sexy thing beside me."

When Karamet palmed himself, Wendy blinked in confusion. "What does 'sexy' mean?"

Sadiq perked up at that. He looked over at Georgio with a scowl. "Kid, what have I told you about talking like that? Do you _want _me to tell your mother when she comes back from paying the bill?"

Wendy, while Georgio dropped to his knees to beg that his mother not be informed, resumed petting Grigori's head. "Can… I pet him too?" Karamet carefully asked. At Ivan's nod, he shyly put his hand on Grigori's head. The boy's face lit up when Grigori licked him in the face too.

Ivan crouched down next to his dog, beaming at the children taking such an interest to his friend. "What's your name, Mister?" Wendy asked.

"Ivan."

Sadiq paused, slightly frowning. Suddenly, eyes growing wide with recognition, he snapped upright, bumping his head on the hood of the car. "Ouch!" the man hissed.

Karamet instantly looked up in concern. "Are you okay, Dad?"

The Turk paid him no mind, throwing a finger out at Ivan. "You're that missing kid!" he burst, one hand on his head. "You're Ivan Braginski!"

Ivan's eyes went wide as well. "Y-y-you know who I am?" he stuttered.

Wendy's grandmother gasped. "You are!" she awed. The old woman hobbled around Sadiq, still gaping, and took his face in her hands, looking him over. "You poor child!" she decided after a moment's investigation. "You poor child, I'll take you home with us. Where is that despicable father of yours? Don't worry about that! Get in my car right now. As soon as dear Sadiq fixes it for me, I'll take you back to Heta."

"You live in Heta?"

"Gram, what are you doing?"

Ivan and the others turned to the restaurant entrance. A young man with a bandage over his nose and a woman who looked like she had come straight from the Mediterranean walked out of the restaurant. Ivan couldn't help but stare at the boxes of leftovers in their arms.

The woman turned on the boy in an instant. "Kyle, how many times have I told you to address me with some respect? I am eighty-three-years-old and I _demand _to be treated with some courtesy. Now I know your father taught you to act better than that, boy."

"I apologize, Grandmother," he grated out with a sigh.

She sweetly smiled back at Ivan. "This ungracious whelp is Kyle Dubose, my grandson. Wendy is his little sister. I'm Agatha Dubose."

Ivan numbly nodded. "I-it's nice to meet you, ma'am."

Mrs. Dubose absolutely beamed. "See that, Kyle? Respect! You should learn a thing or two from this young man here."

"Yes, Grandmother."

"Are you sassing me?"

"No, Grandmother."

"Better not be. And stand up straight!"

Mrs. Dubose and Sadiq started back on the truck, Sadiq explaining to his sister what was going on. Wendy and Karamet sat Ivan down next to them, still scratching Grigori behind the ears. Ivan finally noticed that the dog had _led _him here. "_Spasiba_, Grigori," Ivan whispered, patting him on the head affectionately.

Giorgio poked him in the shoulder. After successfully getting Ivan's attention, the young boy asked, "So, your _papà_ took you away?"

Ivan sighed. "Yes. He was drunk though, so I don't think he was aware he was being bad at the time. After he sobered… I guess he was too afraid to go back home. So he kept driving."

He nodded slowly. "How'd you get the dog?"

"Today's my birthday," Ivan said proudly. "Morozko found him and gave him to me this morning."

"Morozko? Who's that?"

A bitter frown overtook Ivan's smile. "My father."

Karamet looked up at that, his dark eyes burdened with sadness. Wendy also frowned, but didn't stare. Instead, she focused on gathering up her crayons. "…Weren't you scared?" Karamet murmured. "If my dad went crazy, I think I'd cry."

Luckily, Sadiq, Persia, Kyle, and Mrs. Dubose were too preoccupied with the truck to hear them. Ivan gathered his knees to his chest, suddenly so aware of how _huge _he was sitting next to these small children. "Of course I was scared. I thought he was going to hurt my sister, or wreck us. I was afraid he'd do something terrible and hurt someone else again, like-"

"KYLE!"

Said boy yelped, flinching back. "Gah! What, Grams? Tryin' to give a kid a heart attack here?"

Mrs. Dubose fumed. "Why haven't you given poor Ivan your phone yet? He probably wants to call his family!"

Ivan gasped. He had completely forgotten! He had been too caught up in the wonder of finding them and talking to Georgio, Karamet, and Wendy to think that they would have a phone. Ivan eagerly took it, breathing out a thanks. Georgio leaned over to his ear to hear, but Wendy yanked him back. "Be good!" she ordered. "Here, look at my pictures and leave him alone."

"Aw, you're a mean little kid, Wendy!"

"Shut up, Georgio."

((((()))))

Anelie quietly poked her head out of the door, scanning the hallways. After finding them empty, she stepped out of the restroom and dusted off her pants. Game or no, she wasn't going to sit in a nasty place like that waiting for Feliks. Anelie frowned at the English posted all over the place. So, she was still in America. She wasn't quite sure _how _she had ended up coming to America with Feliks, but she did know that it was starting to get old quick. Feliks was always gone; always leaving her alone with his weird cousin who always said weird stuff like "You'll go back to normal in a minute, don't worry".

The heck was he, like, talking about?

Pursing her lips, Anelie turned left and started walking. It wasn't hard to figure out that she was in a hospital. Determined to find Feliks and flay him for leaving her alone in such a strange place, Anelie searched for the exit.

"There you are!"

Anelie turned and blinked at the blonde, huffing boy running towards her. He was Feliks's age- actually, she thought with the tilt of her head, he could almost pass for Feliks's twin, really. Probably another cousin of his in America, just her luck.

Matthew straightened with a frown. "What's wrong, Feliks? Why did you take off running like that?"

"Feliks? Hon, you're obviously confused. Feliks is a guy. I'm, like, a chick."

His eyes went wide. Anelie waited, tapping her foot and growing more and more irritated by the second, for him to snap out of his cowed stare. He didn't. "Hey. Like, earth to Blondie," she waved in his face.

Matthew flinched back. Confusion was still etched onto his face. "A-are you okay, Feliks? Um… I'm going to call Tavian now, okay?"

"I'm. Not. Feliks. My name is _Anelie_. Like, what's wrong with _you_? Don't you, like, know who your own cousin is?"

Matthew nervously bit his lip, waiting for Tavian to pick up his phone. When he did, several rings later, he sounded like he had just ran a marathon. "Yeah, Mattie?" he answered shakily.

"Uh… Feliks is acting… strange."

"You idiot, how many times do I have to freaking tell you I am _Anelie Kowalski?_"

Tavian cursed. "I'll be right over in a minute," he said, moving in a flurry. Matthew heard him completely shut down everything in the shop. "Keep him in your sight. Do _not _let him wander around and get lost. I didn't think he'd talk about Anelie to you guys, so I thought he'd be okay on his own." Another curse.

Matthew was about to hang up, sure that he was finished ranting, but Tavian spoke just in time. "Call him Anelie. Keep him happy. Just… go along with whatever she says."

"'She'?"

"I'll explain when I get there! Try and get him to the entrance."

Tavian hung up on him. With a deep breath that did little to calm his nerves, Matthew turned back to "Anelie". She was not thrilled that Tavian was coming. "You realize how weird Tavian, like, is, right?" she asked. "He acts like I'm someone else all the time."

"W-well, he, um, probably has an… overactive imagination from all the books he reads?" Matthew weakly proposed. He sighed and forced himself to stop nervously chewing on his lip. Francis fussed at him all the time because of it. "I'm… sorry for confusing you for Feliks earlier. It's just… you look really alike."

Anelie picked at her hair. "My hair is black. I'm three years older than him. How exactly do we look alike?"

Matthew's eyes went wide upon finding himself caught in a hole. He started to blather out everything Feliks had said about his friend earlier. "Y-your skin. It's… it's pale, like his. And… you both went to Teatr Narodowy together, right? He used to give you makeovers. He said… that every time he put powder on your face, you would sneeze."

Recognition shown on her face. Matthew offered a weary smile, glad that Feliks had been talking about Anelie and not another random friend of his. "Anelie" took hold of his shoulders. "Where is Feliks? I haven't, like, seen him in ages. I'm honestly starting to get worried, here. Like, seriously. I think Tavian might have kidnapped me."

He fought hard to keep in a laugh that sprung out of nowhere. "Tavian didn't kidnap you," he said, swallowing the giggle. "He's looking after you and Feliks. Hey, you look tired… Anelie. How about we go to the lobby and sit down?"

"Anelie" followed after him with no complaint. "I know he's, like, taking care of Feliks and stuff. But I'm, like, really confused as to how I got stuck living with them instead of staying in some plush hotel some place nearby. Like, I totally did _not _sign up for this when I came with him to America."

Suddenly, Anelie froze. Matthew turned around, worried, to see her staring into the elevator doors. She drew in a sharp gasp, hands shakily going up to her mouth. Matthew himself felt like cursing when he noticed Anelie had finally seen her reflection.

"_Dlaczego wyglądać ...?_" Anelie stuttered in horror.

Anelie wobbled on her feet. Matthew dove to catch "her" when her legs went out. "Are you okay? Feliks?"

"I…. why do I…. I look like _Feliks_." With that revelation, she passed out in Matthew's arms.

"…_Merde_."

((((()))))

"Alfred?" Katyusha choked out. She wiped her eyes, but it did nothing to stop the flow of tears. "Ms. Jones?"

Almost instantly upon hearing her voice, Alfred swung the door open wide. "Ms. Braginski?" he asked worriedly, taking in her tears with horror. "What's wrong?"

Completely forgetting about her job, Katyusha choked out a sob and pulled Alfred into a hug. "They found him!" she cried. "They found Ivan! H-he's in Kansas!"

"That's great, Ms. Braginski!" Alfred choked out through the pain of his spine being crushed in her hug. She constricted him tighter, smothering his face in her chest. Alfred couldn't _breathe._

Completely oblivious to the convulsing boy's plight, Katyusha nodded out to her car. "Natalya's on the phone with him right now. Oh, Alfred, I can't believe it!"

Sure that his spine was officially broken, Alfred flailed his arms around, hoping that Katyusha would get the idea and _release him._ After what felt like an eternity, she finally did. Alfred stumbled back, gulping in air. He would have rather faced an angry Natalya head-on than ever experience that again! "That's… really great," he breathed.

Samantha thankfully drew him to her side to save him from another of Katyusha's bone-crushing hugs. "You're Katyusha Braginski, aren't you? I'm Samantha Jones," she introduced herself.

"Alfred's mother. It's so nice to meet you. I-I'm sorry that we just randomly barged into your day, but-"

"_SESTRA_!" Natalya practically screamed. She fell out of the car, but scrambled up to her feet in an instant. "_Sestra_, he found him! _Otets _found him!"

Katyusha's formerly elated smile crumbled away. "What?"

"I-I heard him yell at Ivan. _B-Brat _hung up on me!"

Samantha pulled them both inside. "It's alright," she said in her best comforting voice. "There's some more hot chocolate mix in the cabinet over the stove, Alfred. Will you fix them two cups?"

Alfred nodded and instantly set to it. Samantha sat the sobbing sisters on her couch, turning off their movie. They had just gotten to the part where Tarzan killed Sabor, but it didn't matter now. "Is there anything else I can get for you two?" Samantha asked. "Um, I'll call the local police. You know the sheriff, right? That Zwingli guy? He was on TV."

Right as she grabbed the phone, it rang. Swallowing down the anger that bubbled inside her at being interrupted, she answered it. "Hello?"

"Samantha, I'm so glad you're home. I'm really sorry if an insane blonde little girl breaks down the door. Really sorry. But I have a problem. Feliks thinks he's Anelie again, and saw his reflection. I'm at the hospital right now with Matthew Bonnefoy and Feliks is passed out."

"As much as I would like to help," Samantha sighed, "I can't because that blonde girl you were talking about and my son's school councilor are currently sobbing on my couch."

"What?"

She impatiently shook her head. "Look, I've got to call Sheriff Zwingli about Ivan Braginski."

Samantha heard the phone switch over to another person. Matthew answered with a breathless, worried "Hello? Samantha? Vash is here visiting his daughter. My dad is supposed to come and pick us up any second now. I can tell him to run by your house first to bring Ms. Braginski and Natalya here?"

"You're an amazing kid, you know that, Bonnefoy?"

"Thanks, Samantha."

Alfred came back, juggling two very hot, very full mugs of hot chocolate. He presented them to the Braginski's and sat down in the floor at their feet. "Um, I'm sure he's alright. The people who found will take care of Ivan, okay? And he's a big guy. He can take care of himself."

Natalya bitterly scowled at him. "Shut up, Kirkland."

He had no intention of doing such a thing. Samantha wandered into the kitchen, still talking to Matthew and Tavian. Alfred dared to reach up and take Natalya's hand. "I promise," he said. "I promise he's going to come home soon, safe and sound."

Natalya stared at her hand in his for a moment, unsure as to if she should pour her chocolate over his head or simply yank her hand away. However, she had a nagging feeling that told her to do neither- to simply sit there and cry, and allow him to comfort her. It wasn't like she was going to get the consolation she needed from anyone else. Natalya, against her better judgment, sat down her mug and flung her arms around his neck, sobbing into his shoulder.

To say Alfred was surprised would be an understatement. He wasted no time in hugging her in return, patting her back comfortingly. "It's okay, Natalya. It's going to be okay."

"Sh-shut up, K-Kirkland."

Alfred merely smiled.

**Translations**

**Italian**

_**Tuo papà e tuo fratello, o Arthur- Your father and your brother, or Arthur**_

_**Ringrazio Dio che ti ho avuto per un nonno.- I thank God that I had you for a grandpa.**_

**Russian**

_**Spasiba- Thank you**_

_**Sestra- Sister**_

_**Otets- Father**_

_**Brat- Brother**_

**Polish**

_**Dlaczego wyglądać ...?- Why do I look like…?**_

**French**

_**Merde- crap**_


	31. Chapter 31

**I know merde does not mean crap, but something stronger. However, I'm a pansy and if you google translate crap into French, it comes out merde. So take all complaints to google, people.**

…**I really hope that this court case actually made a little sense. This is why I'm an author and not a lawyer, people. I also know this court system is probably totally incorrect, too. Gah, I feel like such a sadist for doing this to Feli….**

**And… I sort of lied. Ivan won't be in this chapter. Instead, this is a whole chapter dedicated to everyone's favorite Spaniard and Italians. I really tried to fit Ivan in here, but the chapter would not have it. So, I apologize.**

**Chapter 31-**

With a furious huff, Lovino sat down beside Feliciano. "Never trust a psychopathic Russian chick to get a sulking Alfred's attention when he and his mom are watching Tarzan."

Feli blinked and gave him a strange look. "You know, usually I'm the one who says weird stuff. But honestly Lovi? I think that was a weirder sentence than anything I've said before."

"Hey, guys?" Peter started, popping up behind them. "I just got a hold of Alfred! He said for me to tell you that Mattie somehow made Feliks go comatose and a bunch of people in Kansas found Ivan. However, his creepy dad found him and made Ivan hang up on Natalya. Alfred also says that Natalya is madly in love with him. I haven't heard from him since."

The brothers gave a low whistle. "And I thought we were having troubles," Feliciano mumbled.

Peter shrugged, wincing as he imagined his cousin's fate. "I'll keep you guys updated, alright? I'll be the best information broker ever!"

"Stop pretending you're a spy," Arthur dully resounded as he made his way up to the front. "And sit down, Peter. You're acting like a bloody four-year-old."

"You mean I'm acting like Alfred?" the boy sullenly shot back. Ignoring the cowed expression on Arthur's face, Peter sighed and trudged back to his seat. "Oh! Text from Mattie, guys!" he announced, spinning on his heel to face them. "He says that… I need to be nice to Arthur. Oh, and that Samantha has officially saved Alfred from Natalya's wrath. She's putting him in timeout. Michelle has come back from visiting Lili! She's freaking out over Feliks. She also says that Lili said for you two to stay strong, because it's going to be okay."

At seeing Lovino's quiet smile, Feliciano's hopes shot up through the roof. He grinned widely, facing the front of the courtroom. Lili had spoken! Things were absolutely going to be okay now! Arthur finally shooed Peter to his seat, snapping that he had better not lose his phone back there. The Brit rubbed his temples. "Your mother's not going to be happy with me," he started, looking down at Feliciano, "but I've got a plan. It'd be better if Lovino was on good terms with the jury-" Lovino stubbornly averted his eyes "-but you're enough, Feliciano. I've talked to enough people during the recess that have plenty stories to prove your integrity, too." Arthur gave him a smile that was supposed to be reassuring but fell through as soon as it popped up on his face. Feli offered him a smile in return.

Right as the judge walked in, Aria and Antonio appeared, zooming to their respective seats beside Feliciano and Lovino. Feli worriedly tugged on Aria's sleeve. "_Mamma_, your mascara is running," he faithfully informed her.

"Oh. Ah, _grazie_, Feli." She pulled out a mirror and started touching herself up. Feliciano squirmed in his seat. He hated it when Aria cried. If Arthur made her cry- even if he was only trying to help them- Feliciano wouldn't like him anymore, he had decided. Feli threw his arms around his mother just for good measure. Aria, however, only seemed sadder when she hugged him back.

That wasn't according to plan. "I found this amazing ice cream place," Antonio hurriedly said as they stood for the judge. "We can go there after this is over, okay?"

Feliciano smiled and nodded. Judge Taylor banged his gavel. "Alright. I believe Ms. Altizer had the floor last?"

"I call Mr. Feliciano Vargas back up to the stand."

There plummeted his hopes again. Trying his best to ignore the stares boring into his back, Feliciano sat back down in the seat. He swore in again and kept his eyes firmly locked on the tiled floor of the court. Ms. Altizer kept her distance, careful not to scare him and make him cry for another five minutes like last time. "Mr. Vargas," she addressed him softly. "Mr. Kiryakov was going to marry your mother, wasn't he? Were you angry about that?"

"No," Feliciano said, looking up in surprise. "_Mamma _loved him. I was happy for her."

"You must love your mother very much, correct?" He nodded again. "Do you love her enough to lie if you thought she was in danger?"

"What?" he stuttered. Feliciano looked back to the floor. "I… I wouldn't."

His eyes trailed her black heels as she moved slowly across the floor. "Are you sure? If you thought Ms. Vargas was going to marry someone who wouldn't make her happy, would you lie to get her out of the marriage?"

Feliciano looked back to Arthur, willing him to call an objection and save him. Arthur didn't look up from his desk and meet his eyes. "Would you, Mr. Vargas?"

"Only if he was going to hurt her," he answered quietly.

The lawyer nodded thoughtfully. "Did you think Mr. Kiryakov would hurt your mother?"

"No. He was nice to _Mamma_."

"But did you think he would hurt her _after _they got married?" she asked.

Feliciano hadn't even thought about that. He had been too preoccupied with Heilrich's plan, hoping and praying that it would work and they wouldn't go through with the marriage. Feli had tried his very best to keep from thinking of what would happen if their plan didn't work. He was afraid to think of Marco living in his house forever. The boy shook his head. "I never thought about that."

Although he still didn't look up, Feliciano was sure he saw Arthur flicker a smirk on his face. His eyes lit up. He was doing alright! He was doing what he was supposed to!

Ms. Altizer blinked. She hadn't figured him to say that. "Are you sure?" At his nod, the woman nodded, doubt still shadowed in her gray eyes. "Well then. May I ask why, Mr. Vargas?"

He told her. He told her all about his and Heilrich's plan, how they were going to break the news to Aria slowly. Feliciano admitted that he was afraid it wouldn't work or Marco would catch on. Being so worried about that, he had pushed thoughts of the future to the back of his mind. He wanted to stay cheerful for everyone's sakes. He didn't want anyone worrying over him, so he didn't tell anyone. "I wanted to do it quietly, because my family tends to get really loud and really dramatic when something like this happens. Especially Lovi and _Papà._"

Marco couldn't help but give a dry laugh, remembering their glare. Ms. Altizer sent him a sharp scowl before turning back to Feliciano. Her smile was completely fake. "You said before the recess that your brother knew about this situation. How did he come to find out if you didn't tell him?"

"He walked upstairs and saw me. He and _Papà _had come to my house after Grandpa's funeral. I made Heilrich see if… if they were going away."

The nearly silent whispers that had been adding a quiet buzz to the courtroom ceased. Things were so quiet that Feli could hear his own heart beating frantically in his chest. He nervously gripped the edge of his shirt. "I asked him to check and see if the bruises were going away," Feli quietly clarified before Ms. Altizer could ask him. "Then… then Lovi walked in."

Marco's lawyer had dug herself into a hole, and she knew it. The faint smirk was back on Arthur's face, and she turned with a start, seeing it. Face red, she turned back to Feliciano. The grin plastered to her face looked more plastic than ever. "If you don't mind me changing the subject-" _because you're scared? _"-may I ask you a few last questions?"

Feliciano fought hard to keep the stoic expression on his face, just like Arthur had told him to before the case began. Arthur had said to keep as professional as possible. He had also told Lovino this, but of course _that _went downhill fast.

"When you first met Mr. Kiryakov, did you like him?"

Feliciano nodded. "He was really funny and nice to _Mamma _and me."

"What brought about the transition between you liking him and you being afraid of him?" She sighed when she met his confused stare. "What happened to change your feelings about him?"

"I was getting everyone's drinks for dinner," he recalled. "I accidentally dropped the grape juice and it spilled everywhere. Marco told _Mamma _he'd help me clean it up. But he grabbed my arm and pulled me away. He yelled at me for messing up their dinner and… and he hit me. He told me not to do it again."

Glares were flying to meet Marco's impassive face. Herakles looked particularly scary, donning the expression he usually wore when he and Sadiq were in the middle of an argument. Judge Taylor banged his gavel several times, calling for order. The court had to keep to themselves or leave.

Feliciano, Antonio, and Aria all gave Lovino steely looks, keeping him planted to his seat. Face bright red, Lovino muttered that he wasn't going to jump up and run.

"I have one last question for you, Mr. Vargas. Do you like playing pretend games?"

_Pretend games?_ She clarified: "Like… make-believe games. Do you like playing those?"

"Sure," Feliciano shrugged.

"Could you tell me what you pretend to be in these games?"

He thought a moment, his mind wandering back to the days he and Heilrich would hide out in the tree house behind Roma's house. Sadiq and Roma had built it for them, Giorgio, and Karamet to play in when they were still very young. Heilrich was always a silent, fearless hero who saved the day and kept everyone safe from the evil wizard or pirate captain or whatever else Giorgio chose to be. Feliciano and Karamet would be sidekicks or the people being saved. Feliciano liked being a sidekick better than a damsel in distress, because it certainly was not fun to sit around, pretending to be tied to a railroad, talking like a girl- even if Giorgio teased that he made a perfect girl.

Giorgio, Feliciano realized, was a spaz.

Ms. Altizer was also surprised with this answer. "You played… as the girl," she repeated.

Feliciano sighed. "Yeah, I didn't like it either. That's why I liked it better when we played Monopoly with Grandpa, or listened to him read us books."

The lawyer looked like she wanted to palm herself. Instead, she donned yet another plastic smile. "Thank you, Mr. Vargas. Mr. Kirkland, your floor."

Arthur rose, his face stony and impassive- just like before the recess. One couldn't notice that he was currently burdened down with thoughts of Alfred and fears of losing this case. He had pulled out the English gentleman card, and he was milking it for all it was worth. "I only have a few questions for you, Feliciano. Is that alright?"

Feliciano nodded, hands trembling. Here came the part that Aria would not like. Arthur's fleeting apologetic look was all Feliciano needed to confirm his fears. "After your grandfather passed away, your family received each a large sum of money, didn't they? Your mother was included in the inheritance, wasn't she?"

Feli nodded. "Grandpa taught at Harvard, and always saved up a lot of money for us."

"Before he passed away, your grandfather was in the hospital for several months. Was your mother seeing Mr. Kiryakov during this hard time?"

It clicked in Feliciano's mind. He knew where Arthur was taking the case. Feli nodded, taking his gaze back to the floor. Aria too already knew, and she was struggling to keep her tears in. _It wasn't your fault_, Feli wanted to tell her. _You didn't know what Marco was going to do. _In deadened voice, Feliciano said, "Yes."

"Did Mr. Kiryakov come with you to visit your grandfather?"

"He did. Grandpa didn't like him, but he was nice about it because _Mamma _liked him."

Arthur looked sad- like he too didn't want to say what was coming next. Everyone knew how the story went now. Everyone was beginning to realize that Marco really wasn't the quiet, kind man his lawyer had made him out to be. "Mr. Kiryakov knew that your grandfather had a lot of money, didn't he?"

Feli felt more tears spring to his eyes. He nodded, his vision blurring. "_Mamma _didn't know," he said, looking up. "She didn't know, or she wouldn't have let him come home with her. She didn't know Marco only wanted our money-"

"It's alright, Feliciano," Arthur softly interrupted. "You can sit down."

He jumped away from that wretched chair and ran to Aria. "I-I'm sorry, _Mamma_," he cried. "I'm sorry. I didn't know either. _I'm sorry._"

Reluctantly, Judge Taylor hit his gavel. "Order, please," he quietly requested. "Your witness, Mr. Kirkland."

"Mr. Kiryakov, if you would be so kind?" Arthur politely asked, turning to face Marco. Eyes trailed his walk to the stand. The same eyes were each locked onto his face, gazing at the faintest hint of an annoyed scowl marring his features. Arthur remained just as professional as before, asking him to confirm everything Feliciano had said. Marco didn't deny any of it. He knew as well as everybody in the room that as soon as Arthur had pointed out the money, his case was lost. It was one thing to believe what could be just a child's story against a man he didn't like that wanted to marry his mother, but who couldn't believe the timeless story of a man burdened by bankruptcy marrying into riches?

The expressions on the jury's faces assured everyone that they believed Feliciano's story now. Marco had little chance to dig himself out of the hole he and his lawyer had gotten themselves into.

But Arthur just had one final question for him: "Why would you hurt Feliciano? Why would you risk your plan to get their money by hitting him?"

Marco scoffed. "Just look at the kid," he said, gesturing with his good arm. "He's a pathetic crybaby. Who in here _wouldn't_ want to hit him?"

"Are you _asking me _to break your other arm?" Lovino hotly spat, unable to control himself.

And the courtroom exploded.

As much as Judge Taylor and his gavel tried, there was no stopping an all-out verbal war from breaking out. Feliciano cried while Antonio tried to calm Lovino down and at the same time comfort Aria, who was sobbing into her arms on the desk before them.

"EVERYBODY SHUT UP!"

They obeyed, turning in shock to see Peter, held up by Gupta. The blonde boy thanked the quiet man and sat down in his seat. Herakles followed shortly after with a yawn. As soon as everyone was settled down again- albeit with insults and arguments on the tip of their tongues- the judge banged his gavel a final time. "The jury will now deliberate." He rose up from his seat, giving the bailiff no time to say "all rise for Judge Taylor!". Only a few people paying attention to his leave stood in time. The jury filed into the recesses of the courthouse to decide Marco's sentence.

"I'm sorry, Aria," Arthur said at once. Antonio stopped rubbing her back long enough to shake his head. Arthur's face fell, and he silently left to find Peter in the swimming mass of Italians.

Feliciano quietly pulled Aria into a hug. "It's okay, _Mamma_," he said softly, still sniffling from his own tears.

"…I knew I was wrong," she miserably admitted. "_I'm _sorry, Feli. I… I need to talk to you," she decided, pulling away. Aria met Antonio and Lovino's eyes as well. "All of you."

"We can do that over some ice cream in just a while, okay?" Antonio put in with a smile. "Let's all calm down first. Peter's already told everyone it's over, hasn't he, Lovi?"

Lovino nodded, not looking up from the flood of texts he was getting from everyone. There were even a few from Kiku, who apologized profusely, once again tiredly pointing out that they were absolutely swamped with guests today. Matthew assured them things were still chaotic- especially with Samantha's yelling and Alfred's complaining and Natalya's attempts at choking Alfred to death for reasons Matthew could not say at the risk of him being Natalya's next target. Alice hoped they would come home soon, and that she loved Feli and would give him the biggest hug next time she saw him.

At seeing the long list of messages from Ms. Johannes, Lovino felt his face warm up- and no doubt go blood red. Feliciano, for once, didn't tease him. Instead, he merely put on a knowing smile and threw himself at his brother for a hug.

_Annoying kid._

But there was still a small smile on his face.

((((()))))

It didn't take very long for the jury to reemerge. Arthur and Peter hadn't paid much attention to their arrival, and were both taken by surprise when the bailiff announced the judge's return. "I hope he gets thirty years," Peter whispered, face adorned with an evil grin.

Arthur had a retort on the tip of his tongue, but he was too anxious to let it fly. He hoped that Marco and his lawyer had screwed up enough to prove that Feliciano was _not _making this all up, and that pulling out the "he's-only-in-it-for-the-money" card had made a difference. Just because it seemed things were in their favor didn't mean it actually _was._ The real problem sat in whether or not the jury believed Feliciano's story or not- and opinions were a very scary thing in the world of court systems.

It was hardly professional, but Arthur didn't care at this point. He crossed his fingers at his sides, mouthing _Please please please be in our favor. _Peter saw, and his face fell. The boy immediately crossed his fingers and squeezed his eyes shut, mouthing the same thing. When Judge Taylor banged his gavel, both Kirklands opened one eye to see the scene unfold before them unfold.

"The defendant, Marco Kiryakov, has been found-"

_Please, Boston court systems, don't fail me now…._

"-guilty of child abuse and assault charges."

Peter's eyes flew open. He gasped and took hold of Arthur's arm. "Uncle Arthur, you did it!"

He blinked in shock a few times before turning to Peter with a finger on his lips, whispering furiously, "Shut it a moment, will you?" But when Arthur looked back, a relieved smile unraveling on his face, Peter knew the snappy order was half-hearted.

Arthur looked past the silently cheering Vargas clan to gauge Feliciano and Aria's reaction. They were currently in the middle of a group hug. Arthur could hear Lovino's complaints as plain as day where he sat, and he had to admit that it lit up his face once more. He wasn't sure how he had made the connection in the middle of the Boston courtroom, but Arthur finally realized that Lovino had barely changed since he was four. He still threw tantrums, was still prone to breaking out into frustrated tears over silly little things…. It was simply amazing how that happened- how he could still retain everything back then despite growing up away from his brother.

…Honestly, it almost made Arthur start to doubt himself.

He had heard Peter tell the boys earlier that Samantha was with Alfred and Matthew, helping them through their latest crisis. She was taking his place, being the adult that they turned to when things went wrong.

But Arthur couldn't hold it against her. He was also starting to realize, after the trial had given him plenty of time to clear his mind, that he had painted Samantha into a heartless monster over the years. Sure, she had definitely played the part when Alfred was born, but what about before? When they were kids, and Samantha pulled him out of trouble? When she had literally smacked some sense into him when he gave Yao drugs?

Samantha wasn't a monster. She really _did _simply want to meet Alfred, not steal him away from Arthur. What was he thinking, accusing her of that?

It was the very last thing Arthur wanted to admit- especially to himself- but….

He was wrong. He had _been _wrong, and Alfred and Samantha had been right. Arthur was still hanging tight to a memory while they were being the rational ones for once. He really had been ignoring Alfred, toning out his wants and outbursts in favor of trying to keep things normal when Arthur knew full well they were anything _but _normal.

Arthur didn't blame either of them any longer. If Aria had consented to Feli's leaving to stay with Antonio and Lovino for a week, Arthur knew he should be okay with Alfred staying with his mother for a while. After all, it certainly seemed he was feeling much better off with her.

Aria was much more like him than Arthur realized. She was torn between making things right and taking care of Feliciano, and eventually it had all come back to smack her in the face. What was so different about Arthur's situation?

Arthur flinched in shock when Peter tugged on his sleeve, urging him to stand up, because it was over. "Ah, sorry, Peter," he mumbled, getting up to his feet. Arthur felt the years catching up to him. "What was his sentence?"

"A year in prison, then he gets off on probation for a few years," Peter sullenly said. The boy let out a frustrated sigh. "I wanted him to rot in jail."

Rolling his eyes, Arthur scooted Peter up the aisle to Feliciano. Antonio was already leading them off with the promise of delicious ice cream. When the Spaniard caught sight of his friend, a wide grin erupted on his face. Arthur could hardly prepare himself before Antonio attacked him in a hug, _lifting him _off the _ground._ "Arthur! _Muchas gracias, mi amigo, estás mi mejor amigo en el todo del mundo_!"

"Yes, yes, you're _welcome, _Antonio. Now please, let me down!"

With a laugh, Antonio obeyed. "I'm paying for your ice cream too. What kind do you like, Peter?"

"We'll have to pass on the ice cream," Arthur interjected before Peter could give an ecstatic answer of "CHOCOLATE!". He smiled regretfully. "I've got to hurry home and make sure the boys haven't killed poor Feliks. We'll stop to eat somewhere down the road."

They gave reluctant goodbyes, several more bone-crushing hugs of thanks, and left their separate ways. As Arthur rubbed his hands before the vent in his car, Peter poked his head up between the two front seats. "So, are you finally going to go home and talk to Alfred?"

"That's none of your business," Arthur grumbled.

Peter's face lit up. "Great! It's about time you stepped off your high horse, jerk!"

"Don't call me a jerk."

"-and then Alfred can teach me how to play this 'Final Fantasy' he and Kiku are obsessed over. He promised he would. And maybe when you two make up, Samantha will come over and make me sandwiches! Because you and Alfred are horrible cooks."

"SAMANTHA IS NOT COMING OVER."

Arthur's rage fizzled out in an instant however. He turned around with a gape. "You think I'm a horrible cook? But… but I thought you liked my scones!"

Peter sighed and sat back in his seat. "Sure I do, Uncle Artie. You're amazing."

A grateful smile came on his face. "Why, thank you, Peter."

With a groan, Peter looked up to the sky and wondered why his uncle had to be so bloody daft.

((((()))))

Feliciano, although he was elated that the trial had gone in their favor, was nervous. Everyone had been acting funny all day- especially Aria. Ever since she had left during the recess to go home for a bit, she had been acting so sad around Feli. It was like she was ashamed of herself for something, and Feliciano didn't know why. Aria had been so nice after the wedding. She had bought a guitar for Antonio (and completely ignored him when he argued that she shouldn't have done that), at least three fedoras for Lovino (which she claimed looked absolutely amazing on him- and it did), and countless other gifts and kindnesses that Feli frankly hadn't thought his mother would ever do.

Honestly, it was a little frightening.

Not even Antonio could stir up a light-hearted conversation during the stony ride to the ice cream place. Feliciano was beginning to think that was a bad idea too. Maybe what everyone needed right now was a plate of pasta and a siesta. He was really hoping for just that, actually. Feliciano knew he'd feel so much better once he got home and went to sleep during an episode of Spongebob.

Inside the ice cream shop was not much better. Lovino was obviously getting annoying at hearing the couple seated behind him murmuring about how they were the ones involved in that trial today. Feliciano distracted him by pointing out how red his face got when he started reading what Alice had sent him. At his angry declaration of, "I do _not _like her!" Feliciano knew the world was righted just a little.

"You're in denial," Antonio sang over his vanilla cone. With a well-masked chuckle, the couple behind them got up and left. They were alone in the shop.

"Shut up," Lovino mumbled. "You're just saying that because you're an idiot."

Feliciano saw the beginnings of a smirk pop up on Aria's face, but it quickly fizzled back into her impassive frown. Before Feliciano could ask her if she was alright, Aria spoke. Her voice was quiet, empty, and weighed down, like she had been fighting with herself all day over these words.

"I think you should stay with Antonio, Feli."

Any hint of a conversation among them grew silent in an instant. Antonio stared at her with a blank look, as if thinking he _must _have heard wrong. Lovino and Feliciano exchanged a worried glance. Feli drew an anxious smile to his face. "Um, what do you mean, _Mamma?_"

Aria repeated herself in the same voice. Tears pooled in the corners of her eyes. "Because," she explained quietly, "you'll only get hurt if you stay here."

"What are you talking about?" he burst, fear lacing his words.

"I'm talking about how horrible I've been!" Aria snapped. "Haven't you realized it yet? _I'm_ the reason Marco came and hurt you. _I'm _the reason you never met Lovino before this. I… I'm sick of myself! Honestly, I can't believe it took me until now to realize I'm an idiot. _Papà_ would be so _ashamed _of me right now." She slouched over, burying her face in her arms once more. "I can't believe I didn't realize he was hurting you. What sorry excuse of a mother _am I?_ And… and _you_, Lovino. I ruined your life, didn't I? I was so terrible to you, and I didn't even notice how awful I was. I'm so selfish, and all of you were hurt because of it."

She was practically sobbing when she finally grated out her apology. It all came out like a flood- Aria apologized for accusing Antonio of stealing from her, for pushing them out, for leaving them and stealing Feliciano, for trusting Marco, for every time she had wronged them.

…Lovino had been right. That day at the coffee shop, when they were snowed in, Lovi had been right. Everything he had said about Aria was true and, although Feliciano didn't want to, he believed it all. Aria had always been so clingy, so afraid to lose him. She was worried that Feliciano would wander off and hear from someone about how she messed up. That, or she was afraid she would lose Feliciano forever, just like Antonio and Lovino.

And her solution to facing her fears was to hand him over to Antonio.

"H-how about you both come to my house?" Antonio offered, hoping to quell Aria and Feli's tears. "We can have churros everyday, and eat _pasta?_"

The two Italians froze at the sacred word. Aria snapped her head up and sniffled. "Really? Pasta?"

"With lots and lots of parmesan?" Feliciano piped in quietly.

Antonio melted with relief. "Sure! Any kind you want. You can visit Lili, and go shopping, and eat as much pasta as you both want!"

A new round of tears sprang to Aria's eyes. "…Why are you being so nice to me?"

Feliciano and Lovino turned expectantly to Antonio, thinking the exact same thing. It seemed impossible to still be civil with someone who had been so terrible to you, but Antonio, it seemed, was the epitome of forgive-and-forget. The Spaniard beamed brightly at them all. "I think we've all just had a bad time lately, and we need to bring back some happy. Is that so wrong? Besides, things have been too quiet lately. Having company over will remedy that right quick."

"He hasn't heard much of what we've been missing in Heta, has he," Feliciano whispered.

Lovino sighed and whispered back, "Apparently, it went right over his head."

Antonio brightly stood up. "Well, if we've figured that out, we'll go home for you two to pack and then we'll start back home! It'll be perfect!"

Of course, he was the only person who believed it really _would _be perfect.

((((()))))

They were well into Maryland when the thought occurred to Lovino: "Hey, Papá," he started. "Where are we all going to sleep if there's just two beds?"

Antonio slightly gaped. Then, with a groan, he hit his head back against the seat. "…I hadn't even thought of that."

"Great. Just great," Aria sighed.

"Can I sleep with _Fratello_?" Feli burst excitedly.

"NO! You clingy, sicko little kid!"

"Aw, but _Fratello_, you're comfy to lay on!"

"HOW WOULD YOU KNOW?"

"STOP SHOUTING IN THE CAR!" Aria roared back at them.

Antonio wanted to slide down in his seat and out of existence. Maybe this hadn't exactly been one of his best ideas.

**Translations**

**Spanish**

_**Muchas gracias, mi amigo, estás mi mejor amigo en el todo del mundo!- Thank you so much, my friend, you're my best friend in the whole world!**_


	32. Chapter 32

**We've got about… seven or eight chapters left. Then, hopefully, I'll put up an epilogue that hints at the sequel I've got brewing in my head as well as mention things from a few of the oneshots I STILL have yet to finish. I need to hurry and write the last of Elizabeta's. I've been working on it since chapter four. T.T**

**Kyo: Good Lord, you've been everywhere this week, haven't you? XD I really **_**don't **_**have all the free time- I'm usually busy procrastinating my homework to help my sister with hers and my neighbor's, who's taking all the classes I'd love to take. Mythology, my love. :'D Anyway. I mostly write these chapters during school and I luckily have bits and pieces written from back in the summer when I first thought of all of this. Also, **_**I **_**still don't like Aria. She is a jerk. But I do kinda like how Samantha's turning out. I always planned for her to be a good guy in the end. Hmm… Turkey in an Armani suit is pretty smexy. Russian really isn't so hard. It's just the conjugating that gets on my nerves. While you have two different forms and the irregular verbs to conjugate, you also have six cases in which you conjugate the **_**nouns. **_**So, yeah. That's not fun. DX**

…**This is such a **_**Mockingbird **_**chapter. **

**Chapter 32-**

Contrary to his family's belief, Ivan was well aware of what had happened in Russia.

For as long as any of the Braginski's could remember, they had been hard-set believers in the Old Ways- even after the chilling revolutions and communist takeovers. Once upon a time, in an age long lost, they had been a rich family with power and land and pride. But, like everyone in the tumultuous times after the first rebellion against the government, it all came crashing down around them. Everyone fought in the wars, and nearly everyone died. Ivan's ancestors were not exempt from this, and they lost everything too. Money, pride, power… all gone.

After the communist rule ended in the eighties and democracy was finally introduced, things only got harder. With the introduction of new ideas and shops, Morozko's own small business quickly fell into debt. Things were already hard-pressed enough thanks to that rotten Before, and that sent them teetering on the edge.

Ivan couldn't believe how obvious it was- what happened next, that is.

Morozko had no money, and his cupboards and cabinets were nearly empty. But he knew that if they reached America- that beautiful land across the sea- that wouldn't be reality any more. He pulled some strings, promised to pay what would never come, and was on his way to America in as little as a year and a half.

It was so obvious why Morozko had taken up drinking again. Again, Ivan couldn't see how obvious it was until now. They had found them. The men with money and an insatiable greed had found Morozko, and wanted to be paid back.

He had been dealing with them for ten years. Those nights Morozko came home late, completely wasted- that had been a day spent arguing with Russian debt collectors.

They had been at it again _that _night, too.

"Brother? Brother, what's wrong? Are you alright? Brother?"

Natalya's frantic cry broke his train of thought. The epiphany had come out of nowhere while Ivan listened to Natalya cry and laugh. His probable state of insanity had likely pointed it out to him.

_Good to know you're finally accepting it._

Ivan fervently ignored the annoying voice. An apologetic smile unfurled on his face. "Of course I'm alright. I'll be home soon. I met a very nice lady who lives in Heta, and she said she'll take me home with her. We'll be leaving today, so I'll probably see you tomorrow."

Sadiq, who had just found and fixed the problem with Mrs. Dubose's car, quirked a grin at Ivan's elated face. Even though he was still going to slowly murder his little brother in a painful, agonizing way, Sadiq was starting to think that getting on the wrong plane hadn't been so bad after all. After all, Karamet and Georgio had made a friend of Wendy (even if Georgio was getting a little _too _friendly with the eight-year-old) and he had just gotten a free trip to fame by finding and recognizing Ivan!

Well… technically Ivan's dog had found them, and Sadiq hadn't immediately known him to be the missing kid. But it still counted! And, what was even better, he was from _Heta_! Sadiq could follow him home, "to make sure he got there alright", and in no time that small town would be thanking him for brutally massacring their horrible history teacher.

This was the best day Sadiq had had in ages.

However, it all came to an end quickly. Ivan suddenly stopped in mid-sentence, cuing his sister to cry out in worry once again. His violet eyes were locked onto the other of the street, growing wider by the second.

Sadiq followed his stare with a frown. Upon seeing the man stalking towards them, the frown turned into an out-right snarl. "Get in the car," Sadiq ordered. "Karamet, help Mrs. Dubose."

The child instantly nodded, hopping up to his feet and offering the old woman his arm. She would not have that. "I've lived here on God's earth eighty-six years and I can assure you right now that no drunk, unarmed sleaze ball will be the death of me today."

Although they didn't turn to see it, Kyle smacked his forehead into the car door. "Awright kids, in the car you go. Wendy, scoot over and let the boys in too. Come on, Grams."

"What have I told you about listening to your elders, Kyle?" she snapped instead. "Now although I've lived in Virginia for the better part of thirty years, I've still got fifty years' worth of training from Alabama, and I ain't afraid to pull it on you. Now you get in that car with Miss Persia and you keep them youngins preoccupied while I put down this good-for-nothing here."

_Now _they stared. Even Grigori, still seated patiently at Ivan's feet, seemed to be in awe and fear of the old woman.

Natalya's earsplitting hysteria was starting to hurt Ivan's ears. "I-I'm sorry, _Sestra_, but I have to go. You see-"

"Ivan!" Morozko angrily shouted, finally having reached them. It was all too painfully evident by the slur of his words and his lopsided gait that he was dead-drunk again.

"Is that _Otets_? Ivan, get away from him! Please, _Brat_, you can't let him take you away again- you must come home. I… I _need _you."

With a grim scowl, Ivan stood up. "I'm sorry, Natalya. I have to hang up, now." Cutting her protest short, he snapped the phone closed and handed it off to Kyle. The boy took it in hesitant silence, eyes flickering in fear to Morozko before he slipped into the protection

Slightly stumbling over his own feet, Morozko threw an accusing finger at him. "What're you… you… d-doing here, boy?"

"I am going home," Ivan all but snarled, narrowing his eyes at the bleary face scowling back at him.

Morozko's face revealed, for just a moment, a poignant, longing sadness- then, it melded into something darker and full of unimaginable fury. He pulled his arm back, but Sadiq intervened, catching his punch before it could catch Ivan. The man twisted Morozko's arm and pushed him to the ground. Spitting fiery Russian, Ivan's father grabbed out at Ivan's leg to pull him down too. Next came Grigori, lashing out with a bite that made Morozko howl in pain.

Ivan flinched at the pained sound, but made no move to help his father. He again flinched when Mrs. Dubose put her arms around his torso and turned him away. "Go ahead and get in the car, honey. And if that sorry no-account grandson of mine ain't called for the police yet, tell him I'll hang him up by his toenails to a flagpole."

Suddenly, in terrified English, Morozko shouted, "No! You can't take him back there!" Despite Mrs. Dubose's chiding "Don't turn around, honey," Ivan _did _turn around. Morozko reached out the hand that wasn't held behind his back by Sadiq. "You can't- you can't go back there," he pleaded. "_Pozhhalsta, _Ivan, _ti ne mozhest yeduesh dom._"

"_Pachyemu_?" he coldly demanded. "_Pachyemu ye clusheesh tebya? Ya nenaveedyu tebya._" Ivan shrugged Mrs. Dubose's arm off his shoulders. "You have never done anything good for me. You've tried to be the hero, keep us safe- but we didn't need it and we had never asked for it. _Ya nenaveedyu tebya potomu shto ti udalos' namee._"

It didn't matter if he had successfully gotten them to America. Morozko had wronged them over and over since he killed Jeanne. He was terrible to Katyusha, too demanding of Ivan and Natalya, so angry at himself for getting his family into such a terrible state. One good thing cannot right a thousand wrongs.

Ivan was tired of just letting it all happen. He was tired of working so hard to please a father that thought he'd never do well enough, and he was tired of being a puppet to a perfect life that wasn't nearly as perfect as it was supposed to be.

…Ivan didn't want perfect. He didn't care if he made it through life easily and without care.

Right now, that didn't matter. Right now, he just wanted to go home.

((((()))))

It hadn't taken very long for Peter to fall asleep in the back of the car. The boy had stayed awake through most of the long ride to Massechusetts and hadn't nearly slept a wink at Aria's house. He had stayed up all night with Feliciano, goofing off and talking as long as he could before Arthur finally yelled at him to hurry along so they could go to their hotel and sleep. Peter hadn't slept then, either, until exhaustion finally claimed him in the early hours of the morning.

Arthur had to admit that he liked Peter much better this way- quiet and innocent-looking. Peter was even, dare he say it, _cute._

A faint, pleasant smile on his face, Arthur turned away from the rearview mirror and back to the road. The sky was cloudless and the sun was bright- if not for the bare trees and cold, Arthur could have been fooled into thinking it was summer.

_July 4__th__. Honestly, he to be born on _Independence Day_? To two British people? Is this karma for our ancestors or something?_

The smile widened into a grin. Despite all the grumbling complaints Samantha had made that day, she still found a way to wriggle in a joke. Arthur had hoped that with that comment she might decide to stay- never mind how absurd it was to make a decision like that based on a joke that came from a tired woman with a crooked grin on her face.

…He suddenly wanted to see her _that _way again. Not crying, not with a serious expression on her face. Arthur wanted to see the smile that had once haunted his worst nightmares and later his sweetest dreams. The old Samantha, who was once Francis's partner in crime when it came to terrorizing Arthur. The old Samantha, whose voice he hid from when she cackled in the distance, just _knowing _that she had come up with another way to terrorize him.

It made no sense, but Arthur now found the idea of running away from Samantha like when they were elementary kids perfect. Because if he ran away, she would be soon to follow. She'd find him and stay with him, even if it was to tease him. Just to be with her again….

When his phone went off in the passenger seat beside him, Arthur yelped in surprise. He quickly whipped his head back up to the mirror to see if he had woken up Peter. Another weary smile spread out on his face when he noticed the blonde boy was still lightly snoring.

He finally grabbed his phone, eyes darting from the long British number to the road and back. If it had to be a number from home, it had to be from Achaius or Aldwin.

"Hello?" Arthur asked, trying his best to keep the fear out of his voice. He slowed down the car and coasted to the shoulder, thankful that they hadn't reached the interstate yet.

"Hello, Arthur Kirkland? Yes. Sir, we have some news about your brother. You were on his contact list, you see."

Arthur felt his entire body freeze. His voice was dead and nearly silent when he asked, "Y-yes?"

The man (Arthur couldn't tell if it was Aldwin or Achaius's superior, another soldier, or a doctor) sighed. "Achaius has been severely injured. Right now, we're not sure if he's going to make it. There was an attack on our camp from the rebels, and he was caught in the crossfire. He took a bullet to the chest, but they got him to medic in time. He's being operated on as we speak. One of the others in his squadron said you were taking care of his son, so I thought you should be called first." The man paused, letting this all sink in. When he didn't get a reply, he cautiously asked, "Mr. Kirkland?"

"Can you call me when he wakes up?" Arthur asked, struggling to keep his voice even. "Or… or if he…."

"I will," the man promised. "I'm going to send Aldwin back home as soon as possible. Take care of his boy, will you?"

Arthur nodded. "Y-yes. I will."

He sat still, phone dead in his hand as he listened to the man hang up and dial tone ring true in his ear. His summery illusion was a cruel smack to the face now. It was too much like Achaius- sunny and proud.

Arthur stepped out of the car, looking disdainfully at his phone. He glared at it, furious that it had given him such news, furious that it was going to make him do something he had no choice but to do.

He dropped his head back against the car. "Must it always be me?" he muttered, opening his eyes to the suddenly too-blue sky. Green eyes fell back onto his phone.

There was no way Alfred would dare answer his phone, so he called the next best person.

Matthew answered with a tired hello. Arthur couldn't even pin a smile on his face, let alone hold back the sadness in his voice. "Matthew. I-I'm sorry to call you. I know things are… hectic there right now. But, if you would, do me a favor? Could you give the phone to Alfred for a moment? Just… tell him it's Lovino or something."

"A-alright," he stuttered. "Um, Alfred, it's for you!"

Alfred's happy, bright voice suddenly popped. "Yo, Lovi! What's going on? No one's died in the car yet, have they?"

Arthur cringed at the word. "Alfred, I know I'm the last person you want to hear from right now, but _please _listen to me." He paused, waiting for Alfred to hang up. He didn't, so Arthur continued through the silence. "Peter's father- ah, Uncle Achaius… he's been shot. There was a raid on their camp, and he was caught in the crossfire."

"…Does Peter know yet?" he asked lowly. The voices in the background quickly faded as he walked off.

"Peter is asleep," Arthur answered, forcing himself not to look through the window at the sleeping boy inside. "I'm going to tell him when we get home. He'll… he'll want to go to Tino and Berwald, so I'll wait until they're there for him."

"You can't just _not _tell him his dad is hurt!" Alfred burst. Arthur blinked in shock at the sudden outburst. "How do you think I felt when they wouldn't tell me where you and Mattie and Jeanne were, and…."

They were both silent a moment. Alfred was the first to speak again. "You have to tell him, Dad," he said quietly. "It'll be worse if he finds out you knew but didn't say anything. He'll be okay. I'll get Tino and the others to talk to him, if you want. But you can't lie to him that way."

"I'm not lying to him," Arthur sullenly said.

"Not telling is the same as lying. Sucks, I know. And… getting mad and running away from your problems won't do any good either." Alfred hesitated with his words. He suddenly released a tired huff. "I know _you _probably don't want to hear it, but Mom's a good person. I… think I get it now. Why you didn't want me to meet her."

Arthur leaned back against the door, crossing his arms and watching the lazy traffic pass by. "…Why is that?" he dared to ask.

He knew Alfred was turning back, now, to look at Samantha and the rest of his friends, all of them still fretting over Feliks no doubt. Arthur knew they weren't at the hospital anymore. Probably someone's house. He had no idea of what was going on, but he knew Samantha and Francis well enough to know that they had already moved the kids away from prying eyes. Arthur really needed to get back home, and quickly. Still hearing Alfred's silence, he got back in the car, starting it up again. Arthur shrugged off his coat and turned around to drape it over Peter. The boy didn't move in the slightest, still to caught up in his dreams to return to the world of consciousness just yet.

"She must have been easy to love," Alfred said at last, "and that's why it was so hard to watch her leave."

Alfred seemed to read his mind next. "She really is a lot like me, huh? Mom told me you used to say that. You… you loved both us a lot… didn't you."

His voice was choked up, like he too was fighting tears.

"I'm sorry, Dad."

((((()))))

They could now hear police sirens nearing them. Sadiq finally noticed the horrified, confused faces stuck up against the restaurant's windows, staring out at them with wide eyes and gaping faces. He looked back up at Ivan. The boy was still scowling, his shaking hands clenched tight into fists. "He won't be a problem any more, kid," Sadiq said at last. "You're done. Free."

Ivan finally pulled his gaze away from his father with an owlish blink. Sadiq offered him a smirk.

And suddenly dust flew in his face. Sadiq cried out, clawing at his burning eyes. Morozko jumped up, flinging his arm out and hitting him in the neck. Sadiq crumbled to the ground, coughing and choking. Karamet popped his head out of the car, crying out for his father. Georgio promptly pulled him back in, shushing him. Kyle resumed order by starting the car. "I'm taking them on home, okay, Grams?"

The old woman smiled, ignoring the fact that Morozko's glare had just been directed at her. "That's the best thing you've said all afternoon, dear. Thank you."

When she turned back, there was _not _a smile on her face. "You quite a vulgar man, playing dirty like that," Mrs. Dubose commented. "And now you've turned on an elderly, defenseless woman? I'm ashamed."

"Shut up," he sneered. Right as he poised to strike her next, Grigori bumped into Ivan's leg. Ivan looked down at the dog and the pipe in his jaws. His eyes widened.

His arms moved mechanically. In one swift, fluid movement, Ivan grabbed the pipe from Grigori's mouth and wacked at Morozko's arm. The man stumbled, eyes wide at having been interrupted. "Please go to Sadiq's car, Mrs. Dubose," Ivan politely asked, a pleasant smile coming on his face. The same contented grin was on his face as he faced his father. "She was right, you know," he started happily. "That was not very nice of you, _Otets_."

_Ivan, stop it. She's safe. Put it down._

_I don't think I will, Voice._

Sadiq was on his knees now, rubbing his neck. "Kid, what're you doing?" he rasped. "Put that down- you could _kill him._"

He wasn't sure he cared at this point.

Ivan was remembering everything, now. He had been so mean to Katyusha- his beloved sister, who taught him how to read and kept him and Natalya happy. That wasn't forgivable. Ivan also realized that that was his problem: he had been letting too many of Morozko's mistakes slide by.

Morozko had made them suffer. It was time for him to suffer, too.

Honestly, Ivan wasn't sure what had clicked in his mind. Probably that last shred of sanity ripping to pieces. He was okay with that, really. He didn't know what he had been so sad about before. It was Morozko's fault. Not the voice's, but Morozko's.

It was _all _his fault.

Still wearing that crazed smile, Ivan lifted the pipe above his head looking down at Morozko with eyes wide and just as manic. Morozko had killed Jeanne and made his friend Matthew sad. That was another thing of which he was at fault. He had hurt Alfred's father. Ivan himself didn't like Alfred that much- but again, Matthew was friends with him, and thus he had to avenge him, too.

_Do you want your sisters to look on you and see a murderer?_

Ivan froze. _That's right. They… they would be so ashamed of me._

His arms dropped to his sides, the pipe hitting the ground. "No," Ivan whispered, wilting to his knees. "I'm won't drop to your level. You killed Jeanne. I won't… won't be like you. I hate you. I hate you so much, _Otets._"

"Kansas state police! Put your hands up!"

…And it was finally over.

**Translations**

**Russian-**

_**Pozhalsta, Ivan, ti ne mozhest yeduesh dom.- Please, Ivan, you can't go home.**_

_**Pachyemu?- Why?**_

_**Pachyemu ye clusheesh tebya? Ya nenaveedyu tebya.- Why should I listen to you? I hate you.**_

_**Ya nenaveedyu ti potomu shto tebya udalos' namee.- I hate you because you failed us.**_


	33. Chapter 33

**Anon: Well, all I can really tell you is to wait for a few chapters. Hopefully things won't be so bad then. : )**

**More of the Baltics and their pasts will be explained in the sequel. They'll have a much bigger part in the next book, I promise.**

**Oh, and if anyone wonders why the Poles were mean enough to not wake up Feliks, may I suggest watching YGOTAS where Bakura comes in as a new student? Hopefully that should explain their reaction to having Feliks join their ranks. XD**

**Raymón- Cuba**

**Chapter 33-**

"Oof!" the blonde six-year-old fell with a huff. Feliks lay stunned, sprawled on the ground a moment before turning back with tears in his eyes. "You jerk!" he cried out at the smiling Russian boy who had just stolen his spot on the swings.

Ivan brightly smiled, swinging his legs back and forth to gain more altitude. Feliks scrambled backwards to avoid being kicked. "Teacher said for us to share!" the other boy said cheerfully. "I wanted to swing too, so I made you share! It's the rules."

Feliks swore that the next time he and Ivan Braginski crossed paths, _he _would be the one to shove him out of the swings! Because that wasn't sharing; that was being a bully!

Feliks gave him one last fleeting glare before huffily turning away and rubbing furiously at his cheeks. He hated that kid so much! It didn't matter if his parents told him to be nice to everyone- _Ivan _certainly wasn't very nice at all. After a quick scan of the playground, Feliks found everything fun already occupied. A screaming Lovino was being chased by a laughing Alfred and a cackling Alice, while Matthew serenely watched nearby on the slide, clutching a matted white teddy (polar?) bear close. Kiku was nestled away in the corner where the jungle gym met the monkey bars, playing his gameboy. Eduard von Brock was at his side, rapt with attention. Feliks thought about joining them, but Kiku and Eduard were too quiet for his tastes. Feliks wanted someone fun to play with.

The kindergartener continued his search. Ludwig looked bored as he wandered around the area, scuffing the mulch with his shoe. He was too boring to even be considered. Raymón, the chubby Cuban kid, had found and intercepted Alfred's chase, yelling at him for something. Feliks rolled his eyes when Matthew was summoned to be the peace keeper. Lili was wandering just as Ludwig was, but she was smiling softly at the doll in her hands, talking to it as she searched for a good place to sit. Eventually she and Ludwig met each other in their distracted pacing and were talking pleasantly to one another.

With a sigh, deciding today was _not _his lucky day at all, Feliks walked over to the backside of the jungle gym where he was out of eyeshot from the teachers. His comfy spot on the stairs, however, was already occupied.

Feliks didn't know this kid. Swallowing down the pang of fear that washed over him, Feliks walked up before the brunette boy, who looked up with a start. Feliks scowled at him. "You're in my spot," he informed him, hands on his skinny, nonexistent hips.

The brunette boy blinked. "Oh. Sorry. I was bored, so I sat down here. Today's no fun with everyone gone because it's the last day of school. No one here wanted to play with me."

"H-hey, wait a minute!" Feliks burst, catching his wrist. "Um… if you're bored, how about you play with me? I'm Feliks!"

A happy smile spread out on the other boy's face. "Sure! I'm Toris Lorinaitis. And that's really my last name; I'm not sick."

They shared a laugh. This kid had some real promise, Feliks decided. The blonde ran up to the top of the stairs. "Alright, Toris! We're going to play Knights and Dragons! You're the dragon, okay?"

Toris blinked in surprise. Normally, people discussed for a moment what they'd play- at the very least _ask _what they wanted to do. This kid just blurted out whatever came to mind. This kid also knew how to effectively jump off of the stairs and on to an unsuspecting Toris. The brunette landed with a surprised yelp, falling on his back. Feliks jumped up to his feet and fist-pumped the air. "Aha! Sir Łukasiewicz has defeated the evil dragon and saved the kingdom once again!"

"What?" Toris blinked owlishly again, sitting up on his elbows. "But, you didn't even give me time to fight back. How is that fun?"

"Because I just knocked you over. Duh."

For some reason, Toris laughed. He had just been plowed down by fifty pounds of skinny Polish blondeness, but it had been fun. Now, if _he _was the one to do the pouncing…. With an excited cry, Toris popped up. "But the dragon isn't dead!" he declared, taking off after Feliks, who was retreating away on his white stallion. "The dragon will always come back!"

"Then the knight will always be near to slay the dragon and save the day!" Feliks shouted, skidding to a stop to meet Toris head on.

Both boys collapsed into a pile of laughter and giggles. Feliks had successfully found Toris's ticklish spot and was poking him repeatedly in the side, delighted with his squealing and failed attempt at getting away. "Uncle! Uncle!" Toris cried through his laughter. "Feliks, I give up! The dragon is dead! The dragon is DEAD!"

"See? I told you!" Feliks crowed, once again triumphantly punching the air. "We should play more like this together! Like, you can come over to my house in the summer and we can ride horses!"

"You have horses?" Toris asked, his face brightening. He held his sides, still grinning from the vicious attack. "That's cool! I've always wanted to ride a horse."

Suddenly, the teachers were calling them back. Feliks grabbed Toris's hand and dragged him towards their respective lines. "Hey, sit with me in the auditorium for the awards, okay?"

Toris nodded. "I will!"

The two went their separate ways- but not before looking over their shoulders one last time to share a smile. "I'll see you-"

"-you sure?"

Feliks was jeered from his dream by a voice speaking out through the haze that invaded his mind. Everything was so blurry and smeary, like his mind was wet paint and someone had just taken a paintbrush and went crazy with it. "…be okay?" he heard the voice ask. It was kind, Feliks noticed, but also laced with worry. Something about it was just so… so _familiar_, but he couldn't put a name to it.

He tried to open his eyes, but the fog was too thick. It was like everything was weighed down, preventing him from sitting up or speaking or doing anything. It was… sleepy. Ironically, right as Feliks felt himself give way to unconsciousness, he heard an all-too chipper voice cry out like-

"-like, wakey wakey, sleepy-kins! This is, like, your wake-up call!"

Feliks's head snapped up with a start. His green eyes met an ecstatic face just inches from his. Although his mind was still muddled with fourth grade class sleepy-time, he was still coherent enough to let out a scream and commence to fall out of his desk. The girl's smile blinked out of existence as she jumped down to help him up. "Sorry!" she said in Polish. It took a moment for Feliks to remember that this was Poland, and that the people here did in fact speak Polish.

He allowed her to pick up back up to his feet. The girl was a lot older than him, Feliks realized. She was one of the upperclassmen- probably in grade seven. If she was here… then Feliks had slept through the end of class! With a start, Feliks grabbed his pencil and notebook. "I can't believe those dummies didn't, like, wake me up!" he fumed.

The girl intercepted his path. "You are American kid?" she said, this time in heavily accented English. "Name is Anelie!"

"You're not very good at English," he commented. "_Mam na imię Feliks_."

"Well," Anelie started, a bright smile popping back on her face, "you seem to know Polish very well, Mr. American. Family, I guess?"

Feliks slid a few inches away when Anelie continued walking by his side. "Yeah. Um, we just moved."

"Don't like it so far?" Anelie guessed. "It'll get better. Hey, you probably go to lunch now, right? How about I smuggle you over to my table? I think you can hide behind Ludomierz. That boy has got the widest shoulders…."

_I'm Toris Lorinaitis. And that's really my last name; I'm not sick._

Feliks completely spaced out on her and her outrageous plans. They had spent all their time together for four years, Toris and Feliks. Feliks had taught him how to ride horses during the summers after that fateful kindergarten day, and Toris never complained when Feliks pounced on him from above and started tickling him. They were sending letters to each other (both getting their mothers to write it for them because they had terrible handwriting), but it still wasn't enough. Feliks missed him. Heck, he even missed Ivan!

Things were so boring in Poland. Feliks didn't know anyone, and half of the time he couldn't understand what they were saying. He had been taught Polish by his Grandpa Łukasiewicz, but it was still hard unless he concentrated. Feliks wished they'd moved someplace else, where they spoke English.

"Like, earth to blondie!"

Feliks blinked, finding himself once again face to face with Anelie. "I'll make you a deal, alright new kid? You teach me English to help my grades, and I'll teach you Polish so you won't be blinking around like that."

Catching himself before he dumbly blinked again in surprise, Feliks grinned. "Like, that'd be totes awesome.

"Alright!" Anelie happily said in English, taking him by the hand. "To lunch we go! I like you Feliks-"

"-Feliks still out?" asked another voice to rip him away from his dream. A migraine suddenly slammed into his head, making him wince.

"Feliks?" Tavian's voice worriedly asked. "Feliks, are you alright?"

"Like, shut _up_," he moaned. "You're, like, splitting my head into two freaking halves. Ugh, don't you have any Tylenol?"

When he forced his eyes open, he blurrily saw Tavian sigh in relief. Behind his cousin stood a significantly perked up Matthew and Samantha. It took a moment to process in his mind what had happened. They had been at the hospital to visit Lili, and he had-

The blonde let out a groan. "I blinked out on you guys, didn't I? I'm, like, so sorry, Matthew-"

"D-don't apologize!" the boy twittered, nervously stepping forth. "But, um… are you, ah, feeling better?"

Feliks sat up and dizziness nearly made him fall back on the unfamiliar bed. However, he remained upright, scanning the strange, foreign room around him. It was a small bedroom with boring wooden walls and boring brown carpet. The walls were bare and there was only one window, which was right beside the boring bed he lay on. Feliks noticed he was sitting on top of an old, faded hand-made quilt. It was well worn and frayed at the edges. "Like, where am I?" he asked slowly, turning back to Matthew. Tavian had left, announcing that he was finally wake. Ugh, Feliks hoped their wasn't a crowd out there. His head was seriously killing him and he was _not _going to face a horde of thankful American weirdoes with a migraine.

Before Matthew could answer, the door opened again. A tall, slender boy with dark shoulder-length hair appeared in the doorway, carrying a mug of hot chocolate. Feliks gaped, eyes growing wide. Matthew barely had time to grab the mug from him before Feliks hurled himself at Toris, knocking him on his back with a _oof!_.

Toris stared in shock at his old friend, arms flung around his neck, sobbing into his shoulder. A sad smile came up on his face as he pushed them back up into a sitting position. "It's good to see you too, Feliks," Toris murmured, hugging him back.

Matthew followed Samantha out the door, smiling softly.

"I-I…!" Feliks cried. "I can't believe you're- you're _here_, and- and Anelie is _gone_, and I'm crazy, Liet! But you're _here_-"

Toris hoisted him to his feet and sat him on his bed. "It's okay, Pol," he said consolingly, using the old nickname Feliks had made him use to address him by when they were ten. Feliks had dubbed him "Liet", in honor of his being from Lithuania. Pol, of course, came from Poland. "I saw you guys come out of the hospital, so I told them to bring you here. I think you kind of scared Eduard and Raivis when you came in, though."

"I wasn't Anelie, was I?" he asked in horror.

Toris shook his head. "No, you were out like a light. Poor Raivis thought you were dead, and Eduard freaked out because I'd brought an entourage home instead of the groceries."

Feliks blinked, looking up at him. "Wait a minute- what are they doing in your house? And when did you move across from the hospital? I thought you lived beside the mall-"

"It's… a long story," he interrupted quietly. But Toris smiled again. "Everyone's in the living room, if you want to…." His expression was enough to tell Toris that he did _not _want to join those hideously-dressed monkeys in the living room. Sometimes, Toris thought with a sigh, he wondered when he had degraded himself into knowing exactly what Feliks was thinking- even after four years.

With a tired huff, Feliks leaned back against the window. He turned away from Toris and muttered, "I'm, like, such a freaking pansy. You heard about it, right? How I thought I was some Polish chick I met when I moved?"

Toris had heard that she had been his best friend, and was killed by druggies right before his eyes. "…Yeah."

He tried as hard as he could to keep the tears at bay. Somehow, it had gotten considerably harder to keep everything locked inside with Toris nearby. "She died," Feliks choked out. "She died because I couldn't stop them. I was too scared to stop a freaking _druggie_. He was high out of his mind! I could have easily taken him! B-but I… I didn't, and now she's dead. It's my fault, and that's why I'm crazy. I can't stop thinking about her- I can't stop thinking about how she's dead and gone because of _me_. A-and now, every time I think about her, I turn _into _her. I can't let her just stay dead! I can't help it, and Tavian thinks I'm crazy too, and my freaking parents, like, sent me to freaking America to get _rid of _me because I'm so loony!"

Feliks pulled his knees up to his chest, folding in on himself. "I had to run away from Lili- you know, that sick girl? I totally freaked her out and scared her, and I'm, like, so terrible because I _knew _that talking about Anelie would make me go crazy again. I knew, but I still did it! I told them all about her and Matthew had to run after me. He thinks I'm crazy now too, because I called myself Anelie and passed out like some wimp. I can't stand this, Liet- I can't stand not being myself. It's like all the work I put into myself to be different so I could diss Ivan was totally wasted, and I'm back to being that stupid little kid that everyone pushed around again. I never- I never should have gone to that stupid concert!"

Toris waited until his crying subsided once more. The brunette looked down at his hands, frowning a moment. "You can't blame yourself if you didn't know what would happen, Pol. You didn't know she would get shot. It's not your fault at all."

"But I didn't _stop him_!"

"I didn't stop my parents from getting on that plane, either!"

Feliks froze. "…What?"

A pained look came over Toris's face. "I'm sorry. I didn't… mean to let that slip out. I'll bring that hot chocolate back, alright? You said your head was hurting, right? I'll bring some Tylenol too.

"What happened to your parents?" Feliks pressed, grabbing his wrist when he got up to leave. "Toris, don't ignore me-"

"I'll be back in a minute, okay, Feliks?" he kindly interrupted with a smile.

With that, he quietly stepped out of the room.

((((()))))

Alfred was uncharacteristically worried. He nervously bounced his phone between his hands, just waiting for Arthur to call and tell him that Achaius hadn't made it, and Peter was devastated. Actually, he was worried that Arthur hadn't even _told _Peter yet. If his speech hadn't made him speak, then-

The boy jumped when Michelle's phone went off. The girl was sitting on the floor, one of Raivis's action figures in hand. The eight-year-old across from her blinked in surprise at having their game cut short. She quietly excused herself to talk to her mother and beg forgiveness for not being home yet. Alfred watched her walk off and settled back into thinking.

He was beginning to realize how much he hated thinking. So, when Toris solemnly walked out of his room, Alfred jumped up before him. "Hey, is Feliks better?" he asked.

Toris put a weary smile on his face. "He's fine. Do you want some hot chocolate too, Alfred? I'm going to make him a cup. I think Matthew ended up with the last one…."

"Oh, yeah, thanks!" Alfred trailed him to the kitchen where Eduard was hard at work fixing Mulgikapsad, some kind of weird Estonian soup that had potatoes and pork pieces floating about. It smelled delicious, though, despite how oddly it was named.

Eduard looked up from his stew when his adoptive brother walked in with Alfred. "Feliks is okay!" Alfred announced before he could ask, a big smile unfurling on his face. He laughed at Eduard's stunned expression. They hadn't ever hung out much, and thus he must have been surprised to see his heroicness emanating like awesome from Gilbert. Alfred inwardly congratulated himself on making such a good analogy. If Kiku were here, he would be blown away.

Kiku…. Alfred once again entered that oh-so hated thoughtful mood. It'd been a week since had last spoken to Kiku, as well. He hadn't even thanked him or Yao for taking him home that day to see Samantha- on _Christmas_. He had pulled them away from their family on Christmas to drive him around town. More guilt piled onto him, threatening to dip his bright smile into a frown.

But he was Alfred Kirkland. Frowning was not part of who he was, so he didn't frown. He kept smiling. "That soup smells really good," he commented.

"Ah… thanks," Eduard quietly smiled back. "Um, it's Ivan and Katyusha's favorite, so I thought I'd make it, since she's here."

Oh… that's right. The reason they never saw much of each other was because Eduard was always stuck with Ivan. Toris too, Alfred noticed. They'd been friends with him like Mattie. "Th-they found him, you know," he found himself saying.

Eduard and Toris froze at that, their heads snapping back. "Wh-what?" Eduard stuttered- fearfully? Cautiously?

"Where? When is he coming back?" Toris asked in almost the same tone.

"Big Brother is in Kansas," Natalya sounded behind Alfred. She walked over to their fridge. "Sister is thirsty. Do you have bottled water?"

As Eduard quickly got it for her, Alfred noticed Toris still had yet to move, his arm suspended in the air, reaching for a mug in the top cabinet. His eyes were glued onto Natalya's pale, unreadable face. Alfred looked between them a moment, a pang of jealousy slamming into his chest. Toris finally blinked and looked back uncertainly to the mugs, like he wasn't sure if he wanted to make hot cocoa any more and instead follow Natalya back to the living room.

With a sigh, he stayed on task. Alfred gnawed on his lip, inwardly trying to smack some sense into himself. Natalya hated him.

_But… she hugged me._

On their way to Massachusetts, she had threatened to kill him, maim him, and shove his fat rear end out of a window.

_But she _hugged me _and _cried in my shoulder.

"Um… on second thought, Toris, I don't want any cocoa. I'll, uh, go sit back down. Thanks anyway, dude."

"…Sure," Toris nodded in confusion. However, he shrugged it off.

Once Alfred was gone, Toris sighed. "I had no idea Ivan's sister was so pretty!"

"I know, Katyusha is beautiful, isn't she," Eduard said with a wistful, sappy grin. "If only she wasn't so much older than me…."

"I meant Natalya."

"Oh. Her too."

"I think Michelle is pretty."

Toris and Eduard turned to meet their eight-year-old brother, Raivis. The blonde boy sighed once more and walked past them to his room. "It's too bad she had to go home," he murmured before disappearing down the hall.

They both exchanged a groan.

**Translations**

**Polish-**

_**Mam na imię Feliks.- My name is Feliks.**_


	34. Chapter 34

**KIMCHI IS THE SAME THING AS MY GRANDMA'S CABBAGE ROLLS. :'D This discovery has made my day.**

**Also, I've never actually played Touhou. I'm addicted to Bad Apple however, and one of my good friends is obsessed with the game. I'm… not. XD If anyone has any info on it, I'd love to hear it.**

**I apologize for the late chapter! Life has been crazy this week, and I've been busy helping around the house for my aunt. Chapter 35, for this reason, will probably be late too.**

**Chapter 34-**

Kiku could have sworn the people of Heta were bipolar when it came to visiting their restaurant. One day, they were swamped and run ragged with orders while the next, they were slow moving with only a handful of customers. However, Kiku wasn't about to complain about that. He finally had a decent amount of time to play Final Fantasy! Even though it was much quieter without Alfred and Yong Soo (who was out front to bother Yao), Kiku was still grateful for the peace.

Xiao Mei didn't even look up from her book when they heard Yao yell at Yong Soo to stop touching him. Kiku's sister merely smirked while Tao, without looking up from his cell phone, quietly locked the door on him. It might have been mean to treat Yong Soo like this, but Kiku had to admit things were much quieter.

…Not having Alfred lagging around him was starting to make him more mindful of simple things like that. He made a mental note to thank him later.

"I wouldn't use Auron in that battle," Tao murmured before Kiku stepped through the gate that would take him to battle Jecht. Blinking in surprise, Kiku turned. "You need to use Yuna's aeons, and having Lulu's magic wouldn't be so bad either. Also, Tidus can cast Haste, which makes everything easier."

"You almost waste as much time on YouTube as Yong Soo does," Xiao Mei chided.

"I wanted to see how it ends without commentary from Alfred."

Yong Soo continued to whine at the door, but none of the siblings were eager to let him back in just yet. Tao pulled out his I-Pod and turned it up just loud enough that he couldn't hear his twin anymore.

_Whoever came up with the misconception that twins do everything together must have never met those two, _Kiku thought with a hint of a smile.

Eventually, Yong Soo's annoying pleas faded into a sort of whiny background theme to their afternoon, and then disappeared completely. He must have left to go back to Yao again. At Kiku's okay, Xiao Mei unlocked the door once more.

"HA! FOOLING YOU GUYS INTO THINKING I WAS GONE WHEN, IN FACT, I WAS HERE THE ENTIRE TIME _ABSOLUTELY _ORIGINATED IN KOR- Hey!"

The door had been slammed in his face once more.

"I feel kind of bad for Father," Tao monotoned, his head slightly swaying from his catchy music. "Putting up with Soo must be the worst thing he's ever had to face."

Kiku went rigid. He swallowed the correction and focused on his battle, which he was still losing. Yao had specifically told him _not _to tell his siblings about his problem, and Kiku was going to respect that.

Even if… he wasn't sure he respected Yao anymore.

Kiku was well aware of how hard it must have been to get off of the vile drugs, but to take them in the first place? What was he thinking? No, where had all that honor gone? It was Yao's favorite subject- honor, the things one did to save your family's pride and name. Duty. Obligation_. It's up to you, Kiku, to uphold the family tradition and take the restaurant-_ how could Yao tell him that if he hadn't wanted the responsibility either? How could he say things like _be honorable, no matter what _and _respect others as you respect yourself _when he had done neither of those things?

His faith in Yao was gone. Every ounce of respect he had had was also gone.

_How could you do something like that to yourself?_

Kiku sighed when GAME OVER popped up on the small TV. He sullenly turned off the game console and turned to the door, not sure if he should go out and face Yong Soo's hyperactivity or stay in the safe confines of the back room and be mocked by Final Fantasy X.

To save what little pride he had left- _I don't need Alfred to win my battles for me. I was playing Final Fantasy long before he probably even knew what a video game was, Tao-_ he decided to face his brother.

It was unnerving to think of how normal Yong Soo's clingy hugs were after a while. Kiku's little brother slammed into him the second he exited into the kitchen, wrapping his arms all the way around his torso. "Aw, I knew my _joh-ahaneun hyeong _would pay attention to me!"

He didn't have the heart to tell him he'd be escaping out of the restaurant to wander around the mall _away _from his family. Instead, Kiku smiled softly and wriggled himself free of Yong Soo's hug. Yong Soo instantly grabbed his wrist and dragged him through the kitchen. Even though there were plenty of things cooking, it was silent compared to the ruckus that formed on a busy day. Kiku once again found himself thanking Alfred for teaching him the difference between "quiet" and "loud".

"…then watch TVXQ's video to _Before U Go_, and you have to listen to _Wedding Dress _by Taeyang! It's so sad! And BoA's new album is AWESOME_, Hyeong!_"

Kiku winced as Yong Soo's rant only grew louder and louder as he grew closer and closer to his ear. _Honestly, _Kiku burst in his head, _do you have any idea what "personal space" is, Yong Soo?_

His mind flies back to Lovino and Feliciano, of all people.

It had never truly clicked in Kiku's mind, how they could stand each others' company. How could someone so… so _Lovino-like _enjoy being around someone as bright and happy and bursting with touchy-feely love like Feliciano?

Kiku's eyes flickered to Yong Soo, who was still going off about his Korean idols- this time about some band called "SHINee".

Yong Soo was a lot like Feliciano, once you got past the obnoxious, prideful and loud aspects of him, Kiku realized. However, Kiku was sure his brother wasn't nearly as sweet and endearing as Lovino's brother. No, Yong Soo had never been a sweet and endearing child. He had always invaded everyone's privacy, launching surprise hug attacks at everyone who got within a fifteen-foot radius of him. He shouted instead of spoke, and he stomped around and sang at the top of his lungs to overpower everyone else.

Yong Soo… was annoying.

And as soon as he thought it, Kiku couldn't help but point out the bad aspects of all his siblings.

Xiao Mei was such a worrier- over the littlest things, too! She complained, fought, and argued with both Yao and Yong Soo, and never seemed to care much about anyone but herself.

Tao was just so… _quiet._ Kiku liked that about him, but it was unnerving at the same time. Tao's silence was different from Kiku's silence. His always hid a smirk behind a pair of dark, mischievous eyes, like he was concocting a plan to get away somewhere and release his inner-pyromaniac. And that obsession with fireworks! It was almost as bad as Yong Soo's Korea This and Korea That!

Why was he the only normal one? The only one who was sane, and respectful, and who cared about his future?

"They opened the arcade today, Kiku!" Yong Soo's ecstatic voice interrupted his thoughts. Kiku blinked and looked down once more at his little brother's hopeful face, like he was expecting Kiku to jump up and down for joy, cheering along with him. Why did Yong Soo need everyone to agree with him? He was always pressing his discoveries on everyone, trying to make them learn Korean with him and love these strange bands he listened to.

"That's nice. You should go check it out later."

"But I was thinking you could take me?"

Kiku stopped walking altogether. "Wh… what?" he asked quietly. Quietly. Not loud and in-your-face like Yong Soo.

Yong Soo beamed at him. "We never hang out, Bro! And you're all scowl-ly and morbid-" _Scowl-ly and morbid? _"-and I _really _need to find you a girlfriend, man. Plus, Xiao Mei's been complaining that she never gets to go shopping because Dad won't let her go by herself because she blows all her money on stupid stuff, like frilly skirts and sappy, girly magazines. Hey! If we take her and Tao along, it can be, like, a family outing thing! We never have those! It'll be a vacation!"

_To the mall where we practically _live_?_

Kiku mentally berated himself. It was unbecoming to act so caustic! If he was going to honor his family, didn't that mean he had to be nice to them, too? He nodded politely, even though he was repressing a groan. "That would be very nice," he lied through a soft smile. _It _would _be nice. It is always a good thing to spend time with family._

_Even if said family gets on your nerves to no end._

But when Yong Soo cheered and smothered him in another hug, Lovino and Feliciano flashed in his mind once more.

_Maybe… if they can get along, so can we._

((((()))))

There was just _one _thing Matthew hated about nighttime: it was never quiet. Even though they lived in town, Matthew always seemed able to hear Ludwig yelling at Gilbert to go to bed. If, on the off chance Gilbert had actually toned down a bit on the DDR, Matthew didn't hear the Beilschmit's, then Alfred usually fulfilled that role.

But now… it was quiet. It had been quiet like this for the past week, and made Matthew feel empty, like he was alone. But of course he wasn't alone- not really. Lars and Alice still sat in their apartment, watching TV and paying bills that they never could seem to catch up on. Tino still snuck out at night to walk Hanatamago, accompanied by Berwald and sometimes Matthew, when Berwald needed to sleep after a day at work. Abel was certainly loud enough, but Nikolaus shut him up as soon as he got going on something.

Then there was Francis. He had spent most of the week with his dear Therese, which meant Matthew had spent more time with Michelle. That was also a bit unnerving- Francis really liked Therese, and more than once had he asked Matthew if he liked her too. Matthew did like Therese. She was nice, and funny, and probably the most beautiful person Matthew had ever seen.

But, although he assured himself he didn't care, Matthew was afraid.

He was afraid, because Francis had taken Therese shopping, and he had brought his credit card with him. Francis only did that if he was going to buy something big and expensive.

_Like a ring._

"Um… do you want another pancake, Michelle?" Matthew politely twittered from the kitchen. Michelle sat on their couch, completely absorbed in an episode of _Deadliest Catch_.

She looked up in surprise, quickly licking maple syrup off her face. "Oh, uh, no thanks," she grinned. "You're a good cook, though."

Matthew shyly smiled back and offered a quiet thank you. Silence fell between them once more.

He certainly would never admit this to Michelle, but her company was scary in its own way too. This was how he was going to spend his days; watching the Discovery channel with Michelle while Francis cooked and hummed under his breath in French and Therese talked about going on a fishing trip that weekend. The first few fishing trips with Therese and Michelle had ended with Francis gagging at the worm on the end of his hook. Matthew had gotten sea sick from how they rocked the boat every other second, and his migraine certainly wasn't making him feel better.

But Matthew had to admit that it had been a little fun. Even if he was scared, even if he knew things would never be the same way it had been, Matthew was sure he'd get used to things and learn to love it. After all, once they moved, he wouldn't have to bother with Alfred waltzing in and drinking all his coke. There would be no more waking up Lovino and nearly getting decapitated because of it.

No more sitting with Arthur in the quiet stillness of his apartment, reading books or cleaning.

No more nightly walks with Tino.

Listening to Antonio belt out Meatloaf at the top of his lungs when Lars was out.

Walking with Alice around the block, helping her with French because it was too awkward to ask Francis anything in class.

Silently chuckling at Lovino's rampages, curses, and those rare moments when he was actually a nice guy to be around.

…Comforting Alfred after a scary movie, yelling at him for taking his things, grumbling when he ignored Matthew, laughing when Alfred was the only one who _didn't _ignore Matthew.

The blonde boy dropped his chin onto his palms, leaning over the counter. He wouldn't be able to stand it. One day away from the craziness he had come to call Home would rip him to shreds. Matthew couldn't leave them! He was the only one who could keep them together, away from each other's throats!

"You can still hang out with them at school and at Tavian's coffee place," Michelle's kind voice rang out, breaking his thoughts. Matthew jumped at the closeness of her voice. She smiled and slid her plate in the sink. "You're easy to figure out, Mattie. Almost as easy as Tao."

"You can see what he's thinking with that emotionless stare he does?" Matthew asked incredulously.

Michelle frowned. "He only thinks about firecrackers, getting his dad 'cooler' clothes, and keeping his hair looking amazing. And trust me, he has the most gorgeous hair…."

Matthew was pretty sure the only man who would appreciate that being said about his hair would be Francis.

Good thing he wasn't here at the moment.

"I promise it'll be okay," Michelle assured him. However, a devious smile suddenly darkened her face. "It's time to watch that boxed set of cycle 1-17 of America's Next Top Model. From the beginning."

"A-are you sure we can't just watch that special on beavers in Ontario-?"

"Nope! Oh, I'm so glad we found this in Boston!"

((((()))))

"KIKU! THEY'VE GOT DDR IN HERE! DDR originated in Korea, too! That makes it even cooler, da ze!" Yong Soo excitedly crowed from the back of the new arcade.

Repressing another sigh, Kiku looked back to his other siblings, locked in an epic match of air hockey. Tao (who was winning) had his back to Kiku, while he could see Xiao Mei (who was losing) with a furious scowl etched into her face. They were so into their game that Kiku didn't have the heart to interrupt them and coax one of them into taking his place.

Unable to completely hold the next sigh, Kiku trudged to where Yong Soo was anxiously rocking on the balls of his feet. He grabbed Kiku's wrist and dragged him up to the second platform. "Since you've been all awesome today and stuff, I'll let you pick the song! I think there's a few Japanese ones on here."

There were. There were many Japanese songs one could choose to dance to. Kiku knew each and every one of them- _Fuyu no Maboroshi _by Acid Black Cherry, _Another World _by Gackt, _Oshakashama _by Radwimps, and _Bad Apple _by Nomico-

Bad Apple.

It was perfect.

"Uh, _hyeong_, this song is five minutes long," Yong Soo worriedly reported, turning to look up at him with frightened eyes, "and you just put it on hard. I don't think either of us will last that long."

Kiku felt a smile creep its way to his face. "You've certainly got the energy to do it. I believe you can pull this off. Plus, after this is finished, I can look up the Korean version for you-"

"Less talk, more dance, bro."

There was definitely a smile on his face. Once the beat had picked up (as illustrated by the witch taking off with the apple on-screen), Kiku was sure that it was impossible to turn his smile back into the solemn, reserved expression he'd worn just seconds ago.

Yong Soo was good competition- both in dancing and smiling. He was hopping about, twirling around and laughing a genuine laugh Kiku hadn't heard in a long time.

It hadn't taken long for a crowd to form behind them, cheering and clapping along with their steps and the music. The music further picked up, and Kiku could hear Xiao Mei and Tao singing along in Chinese. The grin grew wider. Even they couldn't resist the amazing Bad Apple.

Five minutes had come and gone far too soon. By the time the song ended with the apple back in the first character's hands, Kiku and Yong Soo both were dizzy from the spinning and stomping. Actually, Yong Soo was looking a little green around the gills, Kiku noticed.

Or maybe his vision was going bad because of how dizzy he was.

Regardless, they stepped off their respective platforms leaning on each other. Xiao Mei and Tao led them off, the former laughing and the latter smirking as they parted through the sea of spectators. Once the world had stopped somersaulting around them, Yong Soo launched himself at Kiku, making him stumble. "This was the best day ever, da ze! We've got to do this again, Kiku!"

"Perhaps we can come back tomorrow," Kiku relented, now struggling to keep his full-blown smile down to a polite grin.

Yong Soo punched the air and took off towards the restaurant, announcing to the world that he was fixing Kimchi to celebrate an amazing day. Xiao Mei took off after him, hypocritically yelling at him to stop running off so suddenly.

Tao lightly elbowed Kiku. "You know, today would be the best to tell our old man that you don't want the restaurant."

Kiku slowed his walk until he stood motionless. Tao confusedly paused also, turning back in concern. With a quiet sigh, Tao waved him over to a bench in front of the water fountain across from them. He waited a moment before he spoke, allowing a trio of giggling girls to pass them by.

"You don't have any reason to be scared, Kiku."

"But… I _have _to take the restaurant now."

Kiku dodged his questioning stare by adverting his gaze to his sneakers. He did. He had to take the responsibility his father hadn't been able to do without ruining himself over. No matter what, Kiku had to prove he was stronger than that kind of set back.

Tao stretched out, crossing his arms behind his head. "So what if Father had screwed up before. That was his decision. You're entitled to your own, Kiku."

His head snapped up in surprise. "How do you-"

"He told me," Tao shrugged. "And he said that he wishes you'd just come clean already. You're about as stubborn as him."

Kiku was at a loss for words. Yao had _told _him? Just out of the blue like that?

_No_, Kiku inwardly grumbled to himself. Tao _knew _that Kiku was worrying over Yao, and was trying to weasel information out of him. Kiku stubbornly neutralized his face. "That's a dishonorable thing to say about your father, Tao."

"It's dishonorable to lie, too," Tao shot back.

"What are you two doing out here?"

Kiku and Tao turned in surprise at the new voice. Yao frowned, putting his hands on his hips. "Yong Soo has taken over the kitchen in the name of Korea. I'd really appreciate your help right about now."

"Someone's awfully bossy today," Tao muttered under his breath. However, he stood up and gave a polite bow. "Like, we're sorry. We were talking about this thing that Kiku has been meaning to tell you. I'll go back and help."

Yao turned to Kiku expectantly, slightly taken aback by the furious glare on his face. He collected himself with a deep breath and slow exhale. _Yao trusted you, so he won't mind. Even though you're crushing his dreams and stomping family tradition into the dirt. You can do this, Kiku. You can do this._

"I… I…."

Kiku swallowed hard. "I think we should include salted salmon on the menu!" he burst, ducking his head to hide his reddening face. "I… I really like salmon," he continued to ramble, feeling the heat from his cheeks. "So, I-I figured we could we could possibly include it? But I'm being too impetuous- I'm so sorry, and I promise I'll never bring it up again. Ha ha, how foolish of me to even think of such a thing! We'd best get back before Yong Soo uses up all the cabbage! No way to make egg rolls then!"

"_Kiku._"

He stopped in his tracks, head still hanging low in shame. "…I'm sorry," he brokenly apologized. "I'm throwing everything you want of me to the side. And… and I know that I'm a terrible, dishonorable whelp who is too selfish to think of anyone else."

Yao didn't look surprised in the least when Kiku turned around. "I don't want the restaurant," he said miserably. "I want to teach history, or… or animate, or design new things- but I cannot stand to think of myself confined to Red Flower for the rest of my life. I'm sorry. I'm so sorry that I'm… that I'm dishonoring the sacrifices you made for my own gain. I'm sorry."

"…Why didn't you tell me this sooner?" Yao quietly asked, his face clear of emotion and voice flat.

Kiku cringed. More apologies spewed from his mouth, because that was the only thing he could say. _I'm sorry, I'm sorry, _hijo ni gomennasai. His shoulders shook and keeping his tears at bay suddenly seemed harder than anything he had ever done. Shame was written all over his face, proclaiming boldly to his father, _It all means nothing to me._

It did! Kiku was sure it did- but couldn't find any reasons to give his father. He couldn't do anything to make him change that horrible blankness on his face; change his voice into one with more life.

Yelling would have been better. Scorn and anger would have been much better than… than _nothing._

As soon as the first tear ran down his cheek, Kiku felt a pair of thin arms wrap around him. Sweet, soft Mandarin graced his ears, calming him down. "I'm not angry," Yao said. "I promise I'm not."

"But you're ashamed of me-"

"I'm _proud _of you."

That instantly silenced him. Yao smiled warmly into his hair. "I'm proud of you because you took your chance. You have more dreams than I ever had. Even if I had left Tohko to take charge, I would've had no idea of what else to do. That's what happens when you focus on negatives and push dreams aside. Really, I had no choice. But you do, and I'd never force you to do anything that contradicted your decision."

Yao pulled back and pecked a kiss on his forehead. "There's more to honor than obedience and tradition, Kiku. In fact, I think it's more honorable to go against those things and still find your own way. You've watched that Disney movie, right?"

"Mulan?" Kiku asked in surprise.

"Yes. That one. You should watch it with Alfred. A bit incorrect on the legend, of course, but it has a good lesson nonetheless."

Kiku pulled a smile on his face. "You want me to dress as a woman and head off to war to protect you?"

"Don't even go there," Yao muttered.

They walked back together to Red Flower, just in time for some Tao-made egg rolls.

**Translations**

**Korean-**

_**Joh-ahaneun hyeong- favorite (older) brother**_

_**Hyeong- (older) brother**_

**Japanese-**

_**Hijo ni gomennasai- I'm so very sorry**_


	35. Chapter 35

**Please pardon this terrible, horrible pun, but…. Deshad means "Nation" or "Country".**

**Also: PROCRASTINATION IS BAD. BAD AUTHOR. STOP WATCHING YOUTUBE AND GET YOUR CHAPTERS OUT ON TIME. Oh, and….**

**AGLKADLKAGJJ I HATE YOU WRITERS BLOCK FOR MAKING THESE LAST CHAPTERS SEEM SO CRAPPY AND UNEVENTFUL AND ADLGAHDLGKASGJDHSDGSDLGJ!**

…**Sorry. Please enjoy your chapter. :) ****Oh. And this was rewritten like three times. Stupid chapter 35.… *grumble grumble***

**Chapter 35-**

**Two Days Prior**

Deshad Hiranandani was about to lose his job if he didn't find that darn dog and _soon._

The young Indian man called out again from his car's window, shivering when the frigid blast slammed into him. This is what he liked least about America- it was so cold_, all the time. _Well, he hated that as well as seeing the pathetic excuses for Indian cuisine in the restaurants. Deshad wasn't much of a cook himself, but he did appreciate a good, warm meal from home after a long day of acting with the grace of Shiva himself.

With a sigh, Deshad rubbed his temples and started off yet again. Festus was such a good dog, so Deshad hadn't thought to put him on a leash. The husky was a highly trained dog, so of course he'd know to follow Deshad without wandering off! But of course, the second he had turned around, Festus was _gone._

And without that dog, he was going to get kicked out of the cast of his new movie.

He _really _needed this movie, too. It would give him the recognition he deserved since he would be playing as one of the main characters. He was working with _Tohko Evans, _for crying out loud! Festus could not ruin that once-in-a-lifetime chance for him!

Honestly, Deshad didn't even like dogs.

"Feeeeeestuuuuuuuuus!" he called out again, his voice echoing through the quiet town. "Dog, you can come back nooooooow! Deshad needs to meet his idooooool!"

His response came in the form of three police cars zooming down the highway before him. Deshad blinked, snapping his head in their direction. An idea- no, a _wonderful scheme _was forming in his head. If he went to the police, he could issue a wanted poster or something for Festus!

Being new to America and a stranger in this small town of Kansas, Deshad had hit a brick wall in his search because, simply put, he had done something terrible in his past life and karma was making him suffer by hiding the location of the police station from him.

His past lives must have really stank if that was the case.

With no other choice, Deshad shrugged to himself and pulled out after the police. They stopped just a little ways away at a restaurant. An old woman, an Arab-looking guy, an old guy, and a huge, staggeringly tall kid were all gathered in front of the place. Faces were plastered with horror against the windows, only pulling back when the Kansas state police force ran onto the scene brandishing shiny badges.

Deshad parked on the other side of the road. It wasn't hard to figure out that the old guy had done something wrong to the kid. Apparently Mr. Arabian-Dude had been hit or something.

But all of that flew out of his head as soon as his eyes landed on the dog. A dog with a beautiful, shiny coat, sitting faithfully by the shell-shocked boy. A _husky_ with _slate gray fur _and _icy blue eyes_, sitting next to him.

Festus.

"There you are!" the eighteen-year-old found himself shouting as he clambered out of his car. Rushing past shocked police, Deshad came up to the boy. "You found my dog!"

Giraffe Boy gaped and pulled Festus to his chest. "Grigori is _my _dog," he said, sounding like he was on the verge of tears. Mr. Arab-Man and Madam Wrinkles both spat out angry reprimands at once. The police joined in the fray, demanding to know who the heck he was while threatening to charge him with disrupting the peace if he didn't leave.

Amidst their yelling and arguing, Festus had cocked his head up at Deshad, as if realizing, "Hey, you're the guy who's been feeding me those delicious dried mango slices, aren't you?"

Deshad crouched down and fingered his collar. It was the same black leather one Deshad had bought him just three days ago when his director thought it'd be cute if Deshad had to take care of him while they did camera work and set up location in the middle of a cornfield somewhere. The dog tag that read "Festus" in curly letters was gone, but there was no doubt it was the dumb animal he'd been looking for. Sighing at the glare he was receiving from the kid, Deshad stood up and snapped his fingers. "Festus, roll over."

Immediately, the dog got on his stomach and turned over a few times. The shouting had died down a bit. Deshad held out his hand. "Now, shake, Festus!" The husky stood and slapped his paw on his hand. "Dance!" he commanded next, taking hold of Festus's other paw. The dog followed Deshad's lead, stepping forward and backwards, happily wagging his tail.

Deshad put up one paw and Festus obediently stepped around in a circle. "Good boy," he cooed when he fell back on all-fours. "Good job, Festus."

The kid wasn't about to let him win over his dog. "Come here, Grigori," he said in a sweet, Russian accented voice. It was slightly strained, like he wanted to scream it out instead of smile it out through clenched teeth. "Because you're my dog, _da_?"

The dog seemed torn. He turned back uncertainly to Ivan, but hesitantly looked towards Deshad.

In the end, Festus/Grigori decided to walk over to the side of the restaurant and lay down in the shade, settling down to sleep as if he had finished his job for the day and was prepared for a nice, long rest. Deshad let out a long sigh, running his fingers through his hair, before turning to the boy. "He's sort of property of Red Flower Productions. Uh, and there should be a tiny little 'trademark' after that. I… well, I sort of had someone hit me in the back of the head with a two-by-four this morning. They ran off with _him_, and I've spent all day looking for the animal. So kid, I'd think it'd be in both of our best interests if you let me take him back home."

Deshad flinched at the glare. The boy slowly rose to his feet, a dark, sinister look in his eye. "Ivan, calm down. It _is _his dog."

Ivan froze. His head whipped around and the glare intensified. "Shut up," he snarled. Deshad followed the harsh look to the old man. He sat on the sidewalk between two police officers, his arms on his knees.

Deshad recognized him in an instant. He pointed to him, eyebrows furrowing into a scowl. "Him! He's the one who gave me a bump on my head the size of a mango! Just LOOK AT THIS!"

They had to admit that it was a large bump. However, Ivan still was not convinced. The young boy's eyes filled with frustrated tears, his fists clenched so tightly that Deshad thought his knuckles would burst out through his skin. Guilt raced through him when he met Ivan's eyes. He, too, was sending beacons of familiarity through Deshad's brain. Somewhere, he had seen Ivan before, he knew. The actor looked to the old woman and the man, both of their faces clouded with sadness rather than worry.

Almost like….

_He took _Brat _away! He just… he just left! Ivan is _gone_!_

"Oh," Deshad breathed in sudden recognition. He shook his head, taking a step back. "You're… you're that Braginski kid. Ivan Braginski. Oh, Shiva, I'm so sorry, kid. F-Festus! C'mere, boy!"

The dog perked up, instantly rushing to Ivan instead of to Deshad. Ivan miserably pulled the dog to his chest. "You see? Grigori is _my _dog. Go find your own Husky."

A miserable smile unfurled on Deshad's face. "You know what, kid? Take him."

At Ivan's surprised expression, the Indian man smirked. "He's more trouble to me than he's worth. Besides, since my past lives were so sucky, I've got to make this one count, right? I've got other movies to do, and I'm sure they can find another Bollywood guy like me back in India if they need one so badly."

Deshad's expression soured when he turned to Morozko. "If I didn't practice _ahimsa_, rest assured that I'd give you a black eye for making me go through this trouble. _Mara jātē haim, vēśyā cēharē jā'ō_."

With a pearly grin and the signature wink he was famous for, Deshad jogged back to his car. "Tohko is going to hate me," he muttered. "But I helped a kid. Good Karma. But… I also failed in my mission to retrieve the dog. Bad Karma. And I'm about to lie to my idol, my director, and my producer. Also bad Karma."

Despite everything, he shook his head, wryly grinning. Good Karma from this kind of situation, however, had to earn him more cosmic points than the bad, so Deshad felt no qualms about it anymore. All that was left to do in order to bring him back to full happiness was to do some yoga and eat a fat-free salad with lots and lots of mangos.

But Tohko Evans wasn't Hindu. She wouldn't understand. The miserable frown was back on his face.

_So much for getting to meet my heroine. Stupid Karma. Uh, and Vishnu? Please don't hold that one against me._

((((()))))

**Present**

It was completely unbecoming of him to do so, but the second Sadiq drove into the small town of Heta, Ivan grinned widely and threw his arms around Grigori's neck, who sat in the floor of the spacious BMV at Ivan's feet. Georgio, sitting beside him, reciprocated the smile.

The past two days had been a blur. After… after everything that had happened, the Kansas state police took Morozko into custody. They wanted a trial, but one glare from Ivan quickly put that notion in the ground. Then, of course, he called Vash and let the blonde unleash his fury upon them, demanding that they let him finally come home and see his family.

Things went awfully smooth after that. Ivan hadn't seen or heard from the weird Indian man who tried to steal his precious Grigori away, nor had he had to deal with the horrible voice. Everything was perfect- absolutely perfect.

Except for one thing, of course.

His hands- always shaking if he didn't catch himself at first. His throat was always dry, no matter how much water he drank to try and sate the thirst. But Ivan wasn't stupid. He knew that water wasn't what he needed- what he wanted.

And really, that was the scariest thing.

"Town Square Park is down this road, right?" Sadiq asked from behind the wheel, thankfully deterring Ivan's thoughts away from withdrawal. Ivan nodded with a bright smile that betrayed nothing. No, none of them had noticed that Ivan was literally being torn apart on the inside.

_Because of you, _Otets.

Georgio bounced excitedly in his seat. "Can we _please _go see Feli after this, Uncle Sadiq? Aunt Aria said they were here, didn't they? Oh! And Uncle Herakles is-"

"We are not going to see that lazy son of a… son of a cat," he lamely caught himself, realizing his audience mostly consisted of nine-year-olds. "If Aria's not busy, we'll swing by there. But be nice! No stupid questions about that Marco douche, alright, youngins?"

"Mama said for you not to say 'douche' around us," Karamet quietly spoke up.

Despite Sadiq's grumbling, "Hey, at least I didn't curse," his face went pale.

Georgio's excitement increased tenfold. Bursting over with cheerful Italian-ness, the boy turned to Ivan. "Feliciano is our cousin! He's one year older than me, and he looks like a girl."

"What did I just say about talking nice?" Sadiq demanded.

The reprimand fell on deaf ears as Georgio continued: "But he's totally fun to play with. He's, like, the master of running away in tag, so he's never it unless we all call 'not it' first. Ooh! And he has a secret brother he never told us about! His name's Lovino and-"

"Lovino?" Ivan perked up in surprise. If Lovino was Feliciano's older brother, than Feliciano must have been the little boy his _sestra _was telling him about so long ago! In that instant, Ivan noted the similarities between Lovino and his cousins: Georgio could practically be his twin, aside from the lighter hair. He and Karamet both had the same dark eyes. Lovino even looked a little like Sadiq- that is, if you took away the beard and changed the face to look more Italian than Arabian.

Ivan sat back in wonder. How on earth had he managed to run into people who were related to Lovino of all people? Ivan didn't even like Lovino. But, if he was actually secretly nice like the rest of his family, Ivan decided he'd make Lovino be his friend. After, one could never have too many friends, right? Ivan thought so, and he smiled at the prospect.

Busy thinking about how he was going to trick kindness out of Lovino, he successfully ignored Georgio's eager twittering and almost didn't realize they had reached the park.

Outside, the landscape was wet and moist from December's melted snow. It was warm compared to how last month had been, so Ivan found no surprise in seeing few people out and about on the playground. Little children ran around in their boots, splashing through puddles and mud and laughing their adorable, chirping giggles.

He suddenly found his nose against the window, staring out at them. Town Square Park was aptly named, despite the strangeness of it all. Across a stretch of grass used for soccer or football practice was the actual Town Square. Business buildings, the courthouse, and town hall formed a sort of semi circle around the flowering gardens- which were now withered away and dead- that separated the town from the park.

Georgio and Karamet leaned forward to join Ivan and Grigori's eyes roaming over the playground. A sly grin spread out on Georgio's face. "Hey, Uncle Sadiq, can we-"

"Not with those women over there," Sadiq interrupted, glaring in the rearview mirror at his nephew. "You're _nine-years-old_, kid. What's with ya, trying to act three times your age?"

"_Nonno _taught me to be nice to all ladies I come across, and complement them as much as possible, because it'll help me score one day. Whatever that means."

Sadiq slightly gaped a moment. Then, with a groan, he smacked his forehead to the steering wheel. "_Nonno _should have kept his flapping mouth shut," the man mumbled. "Eh, Ivan, what does your sister's car look like?"

Once again, the Russian was pulled away from his thoughts. "It's an old red truck. It's covered in rust; you can't miss it."

All four faced the windows, narrowing their eyes in search for the vehicle. Karamet saw it first. "Is she a woman with bobbed hair? There's another girl with her, too. Long blonde hair?"

"That's them!" Ivan cried happily. Instead of waiting for Sadiq to drive up, he opened the door (the car was moving slow, and it wasn't like that was going to hurt him anyway) and took off running towards the truck, pulled Grigori along on his leash.

He wasn't sure which one of them reach him first, but both of his sisters immediately were out of the truck and had their arms around him, crying. Ivan put a soppy smile on his face and tried to hug them back as best as he could. He had let go of Grigori's leash, but the dog loyally and patiently sat by him.

They were so _warm_- so very warm, compared to the cold days spent away from home. They were his sisters, they were solid, they were _here. _Nothing could take that away from him now. Ivan would fight tooth and tail to stay with them, no matter who or what tried to rip them away. Not their father- _Father has what I need, doesn't he? He has lots of vodka- that would help! That would get rid of that shaky feeling and that thirst! I'm so thirsty. Father, where are you at? Where is your vodka at-?_

_NO!_

Ivan had the sudden urge to fight. He wanted to rip something apart- anything! Anything to make that buzz in the back of his head leave him alone; to make that thirst and that want and that horrible feeling of lacking something to GO AWAY!

Natalya's smile faded into a wince. Ivan noticed and broke away. "I-I'm sorry," he stuttered in horror.

His little sister didn't care. She merely laughed, believing that Ivan was just so excited to see her. Not that Ivan was slowly losing control. Why would she think that? Ivan wouldn't do something as horrible as his father and get to the point where he drank vodka like it was water. No, he'd never do that. Ivan was home now! He was home and free from Morozko. Never mind how his clothes still smelled like alcohol- surely that was because of Morozko. Ivan wouldn't. Ivan would never….

But he did.

And Ivan wanted to drink something- anything- again.

It took a good ten minutes for Ivan to notice his sisters weren't alone. Behind them, a faint smile on his cold face, stood Vash. Meeting Ivan's eyes, the traces of the grin evolved into a small smile. "It's good to see you home," the blonde said simply. Ivan's own grin came back. He couldn't stop himself from enveloping Vash with a hug, too. Vash froze in the embrace, his acute claustrophobia finally coming into play. However, he eventually patted Ivan on the back and wriggled free.

Katyusha, face still red and eyes still pouring tears, clapped her hands together. "Let's go out to eat somewhere," she proposed. "Your friends over there can come too! Heeeeeellooooooo!"

Ivan's went unnervingly neutral when Georgio rushed up. "You're the prettiest lady I've ever seen," he said the second he had reached them. "You have pretty eyes, and the biggest-"

Ivan's huge hand landed on top of his head. "Georgio. How about you take it easy on the complements? You only need to say that my sister is pretty."

"But she's _very _pretty, and-"

"-and you need to stop talking now," Ivan coldly ground out, the smile not once failing him. Katyusha blinked in surprise at the tone her brother had taken with the boy. Ivan was nice to children. He loved children! Katyusha had always thought him to be a little boy still, filled with childish dreams and wants.

However, she didn't have time to think about it very long. Once Sadiq agreed to pay for the meal, and Vash had suggested Red Flower, they were off.

((((()))))

Samantha lay on the couch, her legs hanging over the edge. Her head lazily turned to the TV, then to her son, who was sitting cross-legged in from of said TV. He was furiously punching the buttons on his game controller, hacking away at any bad guy that dared get near him. It wasn't long before he was overwhelmed by the green moblins.

"Ugh!" Alfred angrily burst when Link lost his last heart. "Stupid town!"

"Maybe if you took them out with your bow like you're supposed to, they won't all swarm you," Samantha sagely advised.

Alfred muttered something under his breath. Samantha was pretty sure it was some sort of babyish, reluctant, "fine, whatever you say, Mom." She bit her cheek and lolled her head back to the ceiling. Today was the most boring day ever. Even Alfred was feeling the horrible boring-ness of it, and had taken up being tragically hacked apart by moblins on Legend of Zelda. Samantha blamed being cooped up in the house.

Before Alfred could push that hideous button to let him try again (for the 57th time, she had counted), Samantha spoke up. "How about we go out and do something?" she asked. "Like… maybe bother Francis? Or Yao? You haven't talked to Mattie or Kiku for a while, have you."

Samantha felt like smacking herself when a despondent air fell over Alfred. The boy sighed and turned off the Gamecube. "I guess. But we'd have to go to Red Flower or impose on Francis's making-out time with that Therese chick."

That gave him a brilliant idea. Alfred turned around with a newfound hopeful air about him. "I know! We can kidnap- er, rescue- Mattie and Kiku, and we can all go hang out somewhere! Like, at Tavian's place or something! We can go make fun of Feliks and he'll just think we're complementing his clothes!"

Ah. Feliks. Samantha groaned at the thought of him. Ever since they had (foolishly) reunited him with Toris, Feliks had been hatching outrageous plans to keep "Anelie" out of his head. The first method ended up giving him a concussion. The second almost ended with Toris's hair catching on fire. Finally, the third and latest plan involved Feliks dressing in women's clothes. Samantha had no idea how he got off on cross-dressing to keep his MPD out of the way, but so far, each of his plans had worked. He had been himself for the past two days.

This only served to make him positive that doing crazy, potentially harmful things to himself and others would keep him normal.

_That poor, misguided soul_, Samantha inwardly sighed.

"Aw, man! They're busy. Kiku's babysitting his brothers and Xiao Mei, and Mattie's at some fancy restaurant with Francis, Therese, and Michelle. Stupid Francis, wanting to show off…."

It was all déjà vu to Samantha. Francis, fourteen years ago, always took Jeanne out to dinner- usually to the most expensive restaurant in the area. He'd occasionally invite Samantha and Arthur to come along too- but it was only because Francis was lonely without his favorite torturee and needed to let loose all of the pent up British insults within him. Samantha still found it unbelievable that Alfred and Matthew are (or were?) such good friends when their fathers practically hated each other.

Samantha shrugged her shoulders. "You've got other friends to bother, don't you?"

Alfred thought about this for a moment, mentally checking everyone on the list in his head. "Mattie and Kiku are out," he murmured, distractedly picking himself off the floor to pace towards the kitchen. "Alice and Lars are keeping Dad's place clean, Tino's brothers are freaks, Lovi is going to visit Lili- CRAP."

Clutching his hair in expasperation, Alfred yanked out his phone and instantly dialed Lovino's number. He had gotten back in town yesterday, so of course he had to visit Lili today.

But he didn't know. No one had told him or Feli or anyone else out of Heta that Lili was… Lili didn't have….

Alfred cursed when the phone went straight to the voicemail. "He always keeps his phone on! Why doesn't he have it on now?"

"Karma for not eating your peas yesterday?"

"Not funny, Mom. He doesn't know that Lili lost her hair. He's going to freak, and Lili's going to feel terrible, then _Mattie _will feel terrible because he didn't tell Lovino, which means _all of us _will also feel terrible because when Matthew gets sad EVERYONE gets sad too! He's worse than Antonio, for crying out loud!" With a loud groan, Alfred smacked his forehead to the door frame leading to the kitchen. "I hate my life."

Samantha rolled her eyes. _Drama queen. Worse than Arthur._

…And that got her to thinking. It had been two days. Antonio and his bunch were back- why wasn't Arthur home yet? What was holding him up so late? Without Alfred noticing, Samantha cast a worried look to her front door. Maybe… he was already home, and hadn't bothered to call and tell Alfred yet. Or maybe he'd merely gotten held up with traffic and had decided to stay the night at a hotel, or maybe Peter had gotten sick, or maybe….

Maybe Samantha was just hoping to see him again.

She mentally smacked herself for daring to think something like that. It was painfully clear Arthur did not like her- especially after Alfred marched out and decided to stay with her. Samantha needed to get her head out of the clouds and focus on keeping a dramatic, whiny, and dreadfully bored teenager entertained for the time being.

Samantha had a feeling that her afternoon was going to involve Feliks.

And, unfortunately, _a lot _of Feliks.

((((()))))

"Mm, jerk, your phone's going off."

When Arthur made no move to silence the wretched phone, Peter yawned and reached for it himself. "Mmhullo?" he sleepily asked.

"Has ma brother done zombiefied ye, boy?"

Peter gasped into full alertness. He bolted up, smacking his head on the top of the car. With a hiss, he sat back down, but a smile defiantly stuck to his face. "Dad? Is it really you? You're better? You're not hurt badly, and I'm not going to be sent to live with Uncle Aldwin's sheep?"

Peter practically beamed at hearing his father's hearty laugh. The red haired Scotsman seemed well enough- aside from the slight strain in his voice. Peter had picked it up, and his expression darkened just the tiniest bit. However, nothing could shake the joy of hearing that everything was alright.

Achaius finally trailed off into an amused chuckle. "Aldwin wouldn't put ye out with the sheep, Petey! Maybe in the barn…." Another laugh. "How's yer uncle? Sad and mopin' around like the good for nothing 'e is?"

"He's asleep," Peter answered, leaning up to confirm this with his own eyes. Sure enough, Arthur was fast asleep in the front seat, his head rested against the window. Peter let loose an evil giggle. "Uncle Farty is drooling, Dad. Can I wake him up?"

"Ye better not," Achaius seriously for once. Peter solemnly nodded, though he knew Achaius couldn't see the action. His father sighed, and Peter could practically see the relief in his voice. "But honestly. He dinnae get tore up over all this, did he?"

Peter nervously leaned against the door, pulling his knees to his chest. Uncle Arthur hadn't taken it well at all. He was crying when he told Peter that Achaius had been shot. He had been sure that Achaius was gong to lose his life- at the very least be seriously injured to the point of no repair. After that, Arthur hadn't nearly been his usual cranky self. He'd actually been… nice. They had stopped multiple times to go shopping at video game stores and to go eat someplace nice. Arthur said he would have checked them into a hotel for a few nights, but he needed to get back to Heta so he could deal with Alfred. School started back the day after tomorrow, and Samantha would not be able to haul that child out of bed at the ungodly hour of six in the morning. Peter had almost laughed at that, but luckily he caught himself in time. It simply would not do to let Uncle Artie-Farty think Peter was warming up to him. Because he certainly wasn't.

After a halfhearted lie that Peter himself didn't believe in, Achaius sighed. "Well, when he wakes up, tell him it was just a dingy flesh wound. They're sending Aldwin and me back home anyway. You can come back home, or I'll let you stay down there. I've got Aldwin as a nurse, so dinnae worry about me. In a feww days I'll try and send you the tickets, so-"

"I want to stay," Peter surprised himself by saying. He paused a minute, blinking owlishly. Then, Peter nodded. "Yeah. I want to stay. Dad, you won't believe the things we've done here in America! I've gotten to be a spy, and crash a wedding, and I've taught Alfred what a real football is!"

Out of his mouth came a flood of stories. He told Achaius all about their rescue mission and how he was the information broker in the trial. He spoke fondly of Tino and Berwald- "I call them 'Mum' and 'Dad' because they're a lot like you and Mum, and they take very good care of me" -and got the point across that he did not think the American court systems were very accurate, because Marco deserved to be rotting in jail for thirty years at the least!

Peter didn't even realize he'd begun to mumble his words with stray yawns until a second, quieter voice rang out through the early morning darkness. "Peter, who on God's earth are you talking to at this late hour?"

"That Artie?"

"Mmhmm," the boy hummed. "Uncle Arthur, it's Dad!"

Arthur practically stole the phone from the boy's hands. "Achaius?"

While they talked and discussed Peter's new accommodations for who-knows-how-long, Peter let out a good, long yawn and closed his eyes. His uncle and father's low voices quickly lulled him to sleep.

Arthur smiled softly at Peter's snoring. "He's asleep, now."

"That's good. I don't mean to drop him off on you, but-"

"It's alright," Arthur interrupted. "I don't mind at all. Alfred's been staying with Samantha anyway, so he can have his bed. also, if push comes to shove, I've got a few houses picked out that he can help us move into." A yawn caught him off guard. "Ugh, this unearthly hour. Take some consideration into the time zones before you up and call, fool."

A chuckle. "Alright, then. Sweet dreams, baby brother."

"Don't call me that," Arthur chided. "Goodnight, Achaius."

**Translations**

**Hindi-**

_**Mara jātē haim, vēśyā cēharē jā'ō.- Go die, whore-face.**_


	36. Chapter 36

…**So my Ipod decides to be a loser and messes up to where I can't use headphones. Something internal, I guess. So I borrow my friend's old one, which hates my Itunes and won't let me put hardly any of my stuff on it. I'm going to have to wait two weeks (read: an eternity) for a new one when my parents get their tax return stuff.**

**Geez I'm dramatic.**

**Anyways, enjoy your chapter!**

**Chapter 36-**

"'Maybe we should switch today!'" Lovino sullenly mocked under his breath. "'You hang out with Aria, and Feli and I can do something together! Won't that be nice, Lovi?'"

He felt like kicking the stupid toys lined up before him.

Yeah. Mother-Son bonding. Great.

Aria, of course, wasn't even here. She wasn't even _near _Lovino. She'd walked off to take a business call at least half an hour ago and, for all he knew, she could have been on the other side of the mall by now while he still stood in the same darn aisle in Kmart. Lovino had not wanted to spend his first real day back home shopping. No, he wanted to sleep.

But there would be none of that, apparently. Sour expression melded onto his face, Lovino paced to aisle beside the one he'd been standing in. More stuffed animals.

…Comfy stuffed animals. Lovino fell back against one- a giant stuffed bunny. It was actually really soft, like a giant pillow. Pink fur surrounded him, soft and obnoxiously… _cute._

Yes, he regrettably thought, falling further back into the humongous pale pink bunny. It was _cute_. All of them were, in a way. With their dark, beady eyes surrounded by pastel pelts, the stuffed unicorns just _screamed_: "Hey! Look at me! Take me home, Lovi! I'm so CUUUUUUUTE!"

He grumbled out a few curses and closed his eyes in frustration. He _hated _cute. He hated stuffed animals, anything _pink_, Kmart, whoever had the gall to call his mother and steal her away, and he _especially _hated how he wasn't at the hospital right now with Lili! That had been the only reason he'd agreed to this stupid thing, anything. Aria wanted to go shopping (no surprise there) and promised to chauffer Lovino to the hospital.

Going to see Lili did not mean stopping at Kmart for pasta supplies first. Nor did it mean dragging Lovino to the toys, gushing over everything that apparently Feliciano would just _love _to have, as if expecting Lovino to go and buy it or something. Lovino wasn't about to spend his money on crap for Feli! He had better things to spend his terribly little paycheck on, like tomatoes and-

"There you are!"

Lovino bolted away from the bunny, cheeks blazing. It fell down in the floor behind him, bringing with it ten other various fluff balls. Aria rushed over, grabbing them up in his stead. "Don't don't don't!" she twittered frantically. "You'll hurt your ribs!"

He stood by helplessly, the urge to scream and destroy something nearby growing by the second. When Aria had finally reverted the horrible wall of toys back to its original glory, she turned around with a sigh. "I couldn't find you!" she burst. "I figured you'd left to look at something… manlier than…." His mother vaguely waved at the giant bunny. "…Manlier than pink bunnies."

"IwantedtogetitforLili!" he spewed. "F-for Lili. Not me. Her. 'C-cause, she likes that stuff. Fluffy… pink… bunnies. She likes that."

Aria stared at him incredulously. Then she let out a snort. "Really, Lovi. That is pathetic. You expect me to believe a line like that?"

"You wanted me to get something, didn't you?" Lovino hissed, grabbing its ear. The thing was surprisingly heavy. "Here it is!"

"I meant something like _chocolate _for Lili, or a sock monkey for Feli," she argued. "This… this is about as big as _you _are. It'll swallow the poor girl whole."

Lovino froze. _Swallow her whole. So fluffy. So cute. Like a giant pillow._

An evil smile unfurled on his face. "Exactly, _Mamma._"

((((()))))

"OW! I think I pulled something!"

"Ah! _Papà_, are you okay? GAH! OUCH! YOU FELL ON ME!"

"Sorry, Feli!"

After the two finally untangled themselves and crawled away from the wretched Twister mat, Feliciano and Antonio met each other's wide, terrified eyes. "Twister has never been this dangerous before," Feliciano observed.

Antonio nodded miserably. "But then again, the last time I played Twister, I wasn't in my forties. How about we try Trouble?"

"That sounds good. You can't fall on me in Twister. I'll go get it!"

Standing up with a groan, Antonio pointed to Lovino's room. "It's under the bed," he said. "Lovi never touched it, so it's probably still in the plastic."

Feliciano saluted proudly, then skipped into Lovi's room. The bed was still messy and unmade- Lovino had eagerly gotten out of bed when Antonio brought in pancakes Matthew had made for him, completely throwing manners to the wind. Feliciano smiled at the memory. He'd literally jumped onto Matthew, making the blonde stumble back in surprise. But he'd been happy to see Feliciano too, and offered to make him and Aria pancakes too.

Everyone else had come by, too. Everyone but Alfred, but he was away with his mom. Lovino looked mad, but Feliciano was happy for him. If he wanted to see his family, who was Feli to judge him for that?

He got down on his belly, feeling around under the bed for the legendary game of Trouble. He quickly found it, holding it high in triumph.

This is when he noticed Lovino's phone, carelessly thrown on his bed, half covered by the red, white, and green blanket and sheets. Feliciano blinked in surprise- didn't Lovi always bring it with him?

_Oh well,_ the boy shrugged. _I'll turn it off so the battery won't run down._

Carefully placing it back on the pillow, Feliciano clutched the game to his chest and skipped back outside. "_Papà_, I found it! Can I be green?"

((((()))))

Walking into Red Flower almost seemed as foreign to Ivan as speaking Greek. And he was sure he had never spoken Greek outside of Geometry. People Ivan didn't know personally but recognized from school or in town sat scattered in the dining area, laughing and talking over noodles in jovial, hushed tones. They gave the restaurant a warm feel, making the bright red plastered everywhere stand out proudly and boldly- it just made you want to smile.

Ivan didn't smile.

Natalya was, however, her arms still thrown around her brother's wide shoulders, almost _skipping _along in sheer joy. Ivan was happy for her, and happy to be home. But, no matter how hard he tried, he couldn't bring a smile to his face. Katyusha obviously believed something was terribly wrong with him by now, and she nervously twittered about because of it. She looked on the verge of tears when she sat down at one of the long tables in the middle of the dining area.

Beside them, in a booth, sat a young Asian woman. A black fedora was on the other side of the table from her, and there were two menus. Obviously she had a companion. Ivan found it funny how she was Chinese, and chose to eat out at Red Flower. But then again, maybe it wasn't that funny, and he was just showing his crazy again. Speaking of insanity, his mind instantly went back to the weird Indian guy again. He had said Grigori belonged to "Red Flower Productions (and there should be a little trademark after that)". The restaurant was called Red Flower, the lady was Chinese, and the fedora across from her looked suspiciously like the one Deshad had been wearing.

But that had been in Kansas. There was no way that crazy guy- who honestly seemed even crazier than Ivan- could be in Heta.

Ivan half expected Kiku or one of his siblings to pop up and noisily announce his arrival back in town. However, it was man with a thin ponytail on his shoulder, carrying a stack of menus. "Welcome to Red Flower," he greeted happily. "It's nice to see you again, Vash, and…."

The man blinked in confusion. "S-Sadiq? What are you doing here?"

"Yao?" Sadiq burst in equal confusion. "I thought you told everyone that you _hated-_"

"You're right! Of course I was so happy to get the restaurant!" Yao interrupted loudly, worry in his eyes as he peeked over his shoulder at the Chinese woman beside them. He forced a panicked smile on his face. "I guess you're here to see Antonio and Aria? Kiku tells me they finally made it home last night. Ah, and you two must be Sadiq's adorable kids?"

The look Yao gave Georgio and Karamet was downright creepy. It looked like he was using every bit of his willpower _not _to jump across the table and pinch their cheeks. The boys instinctively scooted their seats farther away from Yao. "Uh," Sadiq started slowly. "Karamet's my kid. Georgio's my nephew. Persia's boy?"

"Oh," Yao smiled. "It's nice to meet you!"

They weren't thrilled to meet him.

Before they could set to ordering, a loud voice suddenly rang out, "_APPAAAAAAA! Tao eun geuga won-yong-eul jujin anh-eulgeoya!_"

"STOP SHOUTING, YONG SOO! YOU KNOW WE'RE NOT SUPPOSED TO DISTURB THE CUSTOMERS!"

"Says the screaming woman."

Everyone, of course, turned to see the Wang siblings come bickering in, Kiku sadly shaking his head behind them. Ignoring Xiao Mei's rant, Yong Soo popped up before Yao with a wail. "Tao said he'd win me a dragon if I played air hockey with him, but even though I DID and he won TWO dragons, he won't give it to me! It was even made in KOREA!"

"Soo! I'm trying to take these people's orders-"

"But Tao's being a big fat meany and- Aunty Tohko?" Yong Soo broke off. A wide grin popped up on his face when he looked over his father's shoulder. He waved largely. "Hi, Aunty! I didn't know you were coming in today! I thought you were directing that movie about that husky!"

Ivan froze. Yao's sister… Red Flower… husky….

He miserably groaned, smacking his forehead into the table. "It _is _that weirdo."

Almost as if on cue, Deshad walked in, carrying two bags filled with various types of fruits and lettuces for making an awesome salad. Tohko jumped up happily, throwing her arms around Yao and Yong Soo's shoulders. "Deshad! This is my brother and the nephew I was telling you about!"

"Deshad? The heck are you doing here?" Sadiq demanded.

"Wasn't he the crazy guy that tried to steal your dog, Ivan?"

"IVAN?" Deshad himself burst, dropping his salad ingredients. He snapped his head around to, in fact, come face to face with the kid he thought he'd lost back in Kansas.

Katyusha flinched at their shouting. "Deshad? Tried to steal your dog? What is going on, Ivan?"

"NO ONE TOUCHES _BRAT'S _DOG," Natalya snarled, jumping up to her feet. Ivan was right behind her, shouting that he was right, and Deshad had lied about giving Grigori to him! He was going to try and take him away!

A shrill whistle cut through the air, interrupting them all. "Heeeey, Natalya!" Alfred Kirkland happily called from the corner of the room. Across from him in their booth, Samantha dropped her blood-red face in her hands. She made a mental note to _never _take Alfred out to eat somewhere public again, bored or not. Alfred instantly ran over to join the crowd, smiling at Natalya. She glared in response.

Aside from Ivan's stunned "How do you know Alfred, Natalya?", everyone had thankfully quieted down. Yao set to apologizing to everyone for the terribly rude interruption and herded them outside the restaurant. Vash (upon hearing from Alfred that Lovino was on his way to see Lili) didn't bother to stick around and hear their explanations. He ordered some egg rolls to go, grabbed the fortune cookies Tao handed him, and practically sprinted out of the mall.

"I promise your meals will be half price," Yao said with a sigh and yet another shamed bow. He glared over at his three youngest. "And you all are grounded."

"But Dad-"

"Do you want me to make it _two _months of dish duty, Yong Soo?"

The boy was silent.

Everyone's focus was turned to Ivan, Deshad, and Sadiq, each looking for an explanation. They decided to start from the beginning. Deshad introduced Ivan and Sadiq to Tohko, then sheepishly told her the truth: he really _had _found Festus after Morozko stole him, but hadn't brought him back because Ivan wanted him. Ivan quietly put in that Grigori had been his birthday present. Finally, Sadiq gave everyone the kind, filtered version of Morozko finding them. Ivan gave him a thankful, soppy smile for leaving out his little episode with the pipe.

It was hard to judge who was most floored by the story. Tohko's mouth hung agape, a mix of angry emotions floating around in her scowl towards Deshad. Natalya had completely changed her tune about the Indian. He had given Ivan's dog back? She found it infallibly polite and nice, and thus decided not to rip off his head.

Georgio and Yong Soo were cheering over the part where Sadiq "punched Morozko in the face". Of course, that wasn't nearly what had happened, but Ivan wasn't about to correct any details.

_Too afraid to tell them you're messed up? Where has your courage gone?_

Ivan's breath froze in his throat. Morozko's gruff voice echoed in his head. _Better to get it over with than to have Katyusha find you when you're too far gone. But you're too proud for that, aren't you? Too proud to admit to them and yourself that you're just like me._

_I may be the only person, but I'm proud of you._

He felt something crack further within him, but on the outside, he was still smiling. Couldn't stop smiling for Natalya and Katyusha! Ivan had to assure them that he was fine and happy to be back home, no matter what the truth was.

Ivan had failed them, but he was determined to make things right without them knowing. In order to hide the fact that his knees were shaking along with his hands, he sat down on a bench at the fountain. Natalya and Alfred followed, sitting on either side of him.

"Dude! I had no idea you came back!" Alfred burst with a bright grin, his voice grating in Ivan's ringing ears. It made the sudden migraine explode at his temples. Ivan quietly ignored it, turning his smile on Alfred. Neither boy noticed the quiet, grateful expression warming up Natalya's face.

"Well, I just arrived this morning. Sadiq drove me home, since Mrs. Dubose was going to stay with her grandchildren a little longer," Ivan explained. _Why aren't you leaving me alone? Go away, you stupid oaf. Let me suffer in peace, please._

While Alfred went off on how amazingly heroic Ivan must have been, Ivan politely ignored him in favor of looking back to everyone else. Tohko was practically frothing at the mouth, her nephews and niece fruitlessly trying to calm her down before Deshad broke down in disgraceful tears.

He noticed Yao was staring at him. It wasn't in the strange, endearing way he'd been looking at Georgio and Karamet in, either. It was… apprehensive. Afraid. Afraid of him- _for _him- for whatever reason. Ivan went cold again. He hadn't accidentally said something that'd cause him to connect the pieces, had he? Saving him from his terror, Yao faintly smiled. It didn't reach his worried eyes. "How about I give you a welcome home gift, Ivan?" he asked. "I'm sure we've got something you'll like from that mess in the backroom. And we've got lots of fortune cookies…."

Who could refuse deliciously not-Chinese fortune cookies? (Ivan had learned they were first made in Chicago, and were in no way actually Chinese. It was the only interesting thing he'd learned in Sociology.)

The second they were out of earshot from the others, Yao finally turned around with a troubled frown. "Please excuse this vulgar question, but what have you been on? Alcohol? Kids don't normally act this, Ivan."

So he _had _found out. Ivan half expected himself to lash out and yell, but he only found himself standing calmly like he had been. He was just as outwardly cheerful as before. "I have no idea what you're talking about, Mr. Wang-"

"I smell it on your clothes," he deadpanned, picking at Ivan's jacket. Yao let his arm drop back to his side. Ivan's eyes trailed him as he distractedly started to pace. Honestly, Ivan found it almost amusing, the troubled, sad look on Yao's face. It was almost like a game. Did he actually care and know for sure, or was he merely going by assumption? Surely Yao wouldn't know anything about how Ivan ached.

Yao spoke again after pausing his walk. "I've been there too," the Chinese man quietly said. "And even though it isn't bad yet, it's going to get worse. I assume you don't want your sisters to know? I'll help you, and I promise not to tell."

Ivan didn't realize that his smile had fallen through. He didn't notice that there were tired tears at the corners of his eyes, just waiting to spill over, because someone else was here to help him too. Someone had noticed.

"I'll tell them you want a job here," Yao mused, wryly grinning at the thought. "That way your sisters won't catch on. I've got a plan, don't worry. And I'll drive you home after the restaurant closes, too, so you won't have to further inconvenience them. You're going to be okay, Ivan. You- oof!"

Yao stumbled back at the force of Ivan's hug. The boy's arms nearly crushed his small frame, threatening to break him in half if he didn't act soon. Yao weakly patted him on the back, trying to wriggle out of the boy's grasp with no avail. Finally Ivan pulled back, allowing Yao the opportunity to gulp in precious oxygen. "_Spasiba, _Mr. Wang!"

"Call me Yao," the man merely chuckled.

((((()))))

"Stop. Right. There."

At the dark voice, Lovino not only froze as commanded, but also let out a frightened yelp. It made him feel the tiniest bit better when Aria had the same reaction. At the same time, mother and son carefully peered over their shoulders at Vash, looking menacing even when armed with frilly pink pajamas tucked under one arm and a bag of Chinese takeout in the other. The blonde chief of police stalked towards them. "Lili said she doesn't want visitors," he growled. "And frankly, I'm sick and tired of you all running in and out of here, making her worry. The last kid had mental issues, for crying out loud! Lili's still messed up about him!"

"Menta- that stupid Polish dude?" Lovino blinked in surprise. "I heard he'd gone crazy, but I'd no idea he was all fu-"

"Language," Aria snapped.

He further shrank back behind the giant bunny. "…All messed up," Lovino mumbled the correction. However, he quickly went back to practically shouting. "But I've spent all freaking day shopping and prancing through stupid stores, and I'm going to see Lili even if it means breaking down the door!"

Not even a second after this proud declaration, Lovino hid his face behind the giant bunny, finally allowing Vash a good look at the thing. The man gaped, blinking in sheer shock. Where the heck had he gotten _that _thing?

Vash shook his head. He had to keep on track! Lili said no visitors, so he wasn't going to let this kid ruin her rest!

Busy glaring down at the bunny, hoping to bore holes into it so he could successfully turn his glare on Lovino, neither Vash nor Lovino noticed Aria calmly opening the door. "Hello, Lili?" Aria kindly poked her head into the door. "Lovi came to see you! I think your _Papà _is here, too."

Lovino and Vash raced to the door.

"-tried to keep them out, Lili, but they-"

"-been trying to get in here, but your stuffy old dad-"

Their mangled, frantic voices trailed away into silence.

Lili stared back at the three of them with wide, deer-in-headlights eyes, her arms frozen in the air above her head. She paled in an instant, quickly finishing tying her scarf back. "I-I'm sorry," Lili stuttered in terror, tears instantly filling her eyes. "I-I didn't you all w-would be coming, so-" a sob cut her off.

Lovino dropped the bunny and ran over to her side. "Lili? Wh-what… I-I- no told me, and- d-don't cry!" he finally burst at last. "Shh! Shh, it's alright! There's nothing to be crying over!"

But Lovino's own voice sounded thicker. His voice broke, and soon they were both crying. "I didn't know you got so badly hurt," Lili thickly muttered, her thin, pale arms circling around him. "I didn't want you to see me." Awkwardly, he returned the hug. It was like embracing a stick, and the realization came crashing down on him, stinging his eyes. Barely a week. Barely a week, and she was next to nothing! How had this happened? How had she gotten so small and frail in just a week's time? There was no way- there was no way she could be this sick. Impossible! Lili kept telling him she was getting better- she was getting better, and she'd be home soon, and she'd see him at school again in no time.

"Lovino, where are your manners?" Aria's voice finally sounded through the near silence. Their crying had turned to sniffles, and Vash had yet to move, his scowl now directed at his shoes rather than Lovino. She picked up the bunny and carried it over. "You know it's impolite to toss gifts away in the floor like that," she kindly chided, her voice soft. "What if it had gotten dirty?"

"_Mamma_-"

"Don't '_Mamma_' me and give her the bunny." This time, her voice held more strength. "What kind of Vargas man are you to be so rude before a lovely young lady like this? You'll have to excuse him," Aria now said to Lili with a theatrical sigh. "His father wasn't exactly a gentleman either."

Lovino grabbed the bunny away with a scowl. "Says the woman who married him!" he snapped. "Here you go, Lili. It looks ready to puke its cuteness out, so you may want to handle it with care."

Lili stared at the giant blob of pastel before her. Then, as if the past five minutes hadn't just happened, her face lit up. "It's adorable!" she cooed, pulling it close to her. "And so soft! Thank you, Lovino! I love it!"

"Told you she would," he smirked.

Aria merely rolled her eyes.

Vash finally took his chance to present lunch. "I got you extra fortune cookies, Lili," he coughed. Everyone caught the smile behind it. The girl rubbed her eyes free of any lingering tears and split them between the four of them as equally as she could. Once Vash broke out the egg rolls, all of the tension and sadness in the room disappeared. They forgot they were hurt or sick and in a hospital in favor of laughing over stories and grumbling Spanish when the aforementioned stories seemed to pick on Lovino.

Lili pretended not to notice how Lovino winced after every shout and every laugh. She tried her hardest to keep from looking at the cast on his arm, too. Likewise, Lovino seemed to look and talk to the bunny rather than to Lili's face, at the fear of facing those gaunt cheeks of hers.

After an hour of this, Aria cleared her throat, cutting Lovino's grumble short. "I think it's about time we head home," his mother said, standing up with a yawn. "Feli hasn't called, so I'm afraid he and Antonio have gotten into a mess they don't want me to know about."

Lovino, for once, didn't complain. He gave Lili a miserable wave, promising to come back soon- maybe with Feli next time if he wasn't being a spaz.

And that reminded Vash. "Aria, I forgot to tell you. Sadiq is in town. He was the one who brought Ivan back."

Aria stopped dead in her tracks. Slowly, with sheer horror written on her face, she turned back. "Sadiq? Here? Within a twenty mile radius of Herakles?"

"Yeah, Mr. Karpusi," Lovino answered Lili's question before she could ask. "He and Sadiq are my uncles. They hate each other. At the trial, Herakles put him on the wrong plane and took him to Kansas."

"That's awful," Lili frowned.

"That's my brothers for you," Aria grumbled. "After I get you home, Lovi, I'm going to check around and see if I can warn Herakles to run before Sadiq finds and burns down his house. That's the _last _thing my sisters need to gossip about…. Goodbye, Lili! And thank you so much for having us over, Officer."

Vash nodded.

"Bye, Lovi!" Lili quietly called as he followed Aria out the door. She quietly bit her lip when they were gone and looked down at her hands. "No one told you how bad he was hurt, right?"

It took Vash a moment to realize that she was asking if Vash hadn't told her everything. He quickly shook his head. "I didn't know anything more than you. But he certainly looked fine, right?"

"It hurt him to laugh," she said with trembling lips. Lili felt old tears coming back once again. "But he laughed anyway, just to make me happy. It's just like with Matthew. He tells me that Alfred's been busy, and that nothing bad happened between them on Christmas. But I know he's lying so I don't worry. I don't want them to be happy for my sake. I don't want them to pretend that everything is okay! _Vati_, I'm so tired of hearing that 'it'll all be okay' or 'don't worry'. It's _not _okay, and _of course_ I'm going to worry. I just…."

Lili pulled over the bunny and buried her face in its soft, pale fur. "I don't want to be here anymore, _Vati._"

"I want to go _home_."

**Translations**

**Korean-**

_**APPAAAAAAA! Tao eun geuga won-yong-eul jujin anh-eulgeoya!- DAAAAAAAD! Tao won't give me the dragon he won!**_


	37. Chapter 37

**Eh, guys, I'm sorry for taking this chapter down and then taking forever to repost it. The ending was bugging me, so I made it better and longer. So voila! I hope you all like this chapter better than before!**

**Chapter 37-**

Matthew had always hated dressing up, no matter the occasion. He couldn't stand putting on a bowtie that would ultimately strangle him all night, and hated dress shirts. Adding a stuffy jacket, too-tight vest, and patching pants only made matters worse.

But what was truly worst of all was having to watch Francis's nervous twitching behind each of his smiles and polite gestures.

The restaurant they were at was a very lovely place, Matthew noted. The entire building seemed awash with golden hues and glittering diamond accents to scream elegance. Everyone was dressed accordingly as well, themselves included. Therese and Michelle were like Aphrodite clones (Matthew had been hanging around Mr. Simmons, their English teacher, and Mr. Karpusi too much it seemed). Both of them wore stunning green dresses that sparkled and shimmered in the chandelier light, and they wore identical, intricate hairstyles. Really, the only difference between the two besides their age was that Therese wore a pearl necklace and Michelle had a diamond necklace that had a… fish on it?

No way. There was _not _a fish on her necklace in the middle of a classy four star restaurant. She could _not _be that obsessed with fish and fishing.

But Matthew knew it had to be. It was her favorite necklace and she wore it everywhere, so he knew it well.

It had taken Francis a good ten minutes to stop complimenting them. Matthew knew exactly, because he spent the entire time reading the thousands of texts Alfred had sent him. Something just seemed… off about Alfred. He was surprisingly halfway polite, and had actually wished him luck with dealing everything. Like he really cared about him when everything about his life were currently in shambles. Matthew almost expected Arthur to have finally arrived, and he had caused Alfred's attitude to shoot through the roof with happiness. Of course, something like that wouldn't have been ignored momentarily for Alfred to talk to Matthew. No, if Arthur had really come back, Alfred wouldn't have paid anyone any attention. It would have been all about him again.

But that didn't mean Matthew didn't have a smile on his face when he realized that Alfred was trying, in that weird, unorthodox way of his, to apologize for being an all-around jerk to everyone. Matthew had forgiven him ages ago for punching him and breaking his glasses. Not even that could make Matthew hold a grudge.

"And what will you have, sir?" a voice at his ear asked, pulling him out of his thoughts.

Matthew politely smiled up at the waiter. "The House Special, please." After nodding and moving on to Michelle, Matthew nervously tugged at his bowtie. Ugh, he hated the things. It was entirely too stuffy in here.

The waiter left, and more awkward conversation ensued. When Therese started to fake laugh too, Matthew had to _shove _the groan back down his throat. Why couldn't Francis have just proposed somewhere… less public? Somewhere where they all wouldn't have to care about being awkward. Matthew wished he was back home making pancakes. The world's problems could be solved over a plate of buttery, smothered-in-maple-syrup pancakes.

…Matthew had never felt more like Lovino, so apathetic and willing to eat to forget his problems. It was a very disheartening thought.

A hand suddenly popped up in front of his nose. Matthew flinched back in shock, snapping his head around to his father. Francis chuckled, leaning his chin on his palm. "You're wandering off again, Matthew."

He gave a quiet laugh. "Sorry, Papa." His smile faltered just the tiniest bit, bringing back the awkward. Did Francis really have to wait until after they ate? Why couldn't he propose right now, and eat to celebrate?

It was too hot in there. As soon as attention was directed away from him again, Matthew let out a silent sigh, this time tugging at the cuffs of his sleeves. Dinner was going to last _forever _at this rate. It wasn't until they got their food that Matthew realized _he _was the fidgeting, not Francis. He also realized that no one else felt as stuffy as he did.

So that meant he was freaking out over nothing, and their waiter was probably getting tired of handing him refills of his drink every time he walked in their general vicinity.

_I really _am _one of those snotty kids who's afraid of a step-mom, aren't I?_

The thought almost caused him to frown. However, he refused to let his lips turn down. That would ruin everything, if Francis noticed. He'd feel guilty and call it all off because of Matthew. Matthew couldn't do that to his father! For once, he had actually found a woman he liked who liked him back, and things were wonderful. Therese was just amazing, and Matthew knew he should be thankful that she was going to be his mother instead of someone else. There's no way she would ever turn out to be a fabled evil step-mother. Matthew wasn't Cinderella, now or ever.

Still, he couldn't stop himself from freaking out.

_That's it. Enough's enough._

_I'm calling Alfred._

((((()))))

"You're in… Chuck E. Cheese's."

"Peter wouldn't shut his bloody pie hole until we stopped," Arthur grumbled over the phone. His sigh was almost muffled by the blaring shouts in the background. Alfred could pick out Peter's obnoxiously happy crowing within the crowd.

A grin unfurled itself on his face. "Sounds like you're having fun. Hey, will you take me to-"

"_No_."

Alfred shrugged, the smirk growing when Samantha erupted into snickers, so carefully hidden by her hand. "Worth a shot. Anyway, Ivan came back! We saw him at Red Flower. Natalya didn't try to rip my head off, so I guess she was happy for once. Her smile is a neutral face. She's almost as bad as Anna."

Another sigh. However, this one seemed on the verge of turning into a groan. "Alfred, I've told you a thousand times not to bother the poor girl and- No, Peter! I've already given you all my change! You've played enough silly games! Do you want to make it home any time this month? I'm not made of money- STOP LAUGHING, SAMANTHA!"

"Sorry, Artie, but it's pretty pathetic that you're letting a- what, eight or nine-year-old?- drag you all over creation, while we're hosting a hamburger contest. Whoever makes the best gets dibs on the TV remote for a solid five hours."

Arthur was silent for a moment. Then: "Good _God, _woman. What were you _thinking?_ I'm going to come back home and find everyone dead on the streets!"

"HEY, MY HAMBURGERS ARE AWESOME."

"HIS HAMBURGERS ARE AWESOME," Samantha also shouted into the phone. "Except, you know, mine are ten times better."

"Excuse me, Mother?"

"You heard me, kid."

Amidst their arguing, Arthur's yelling at Peter to get a move on, and Peter's insults in response to Arthur's yelling, Alfred's phone began beeping with a fury. It took a while to calm them all down. "Oh, it's Mattie," Alfred announced. "I'll you back in a minute, Dad."

Before he could get in a goodbye, Alfred switched calls. He spun on his heel, walking out of the kitchen. "Hey, Mattie! What's up? Is Therese Mrs. Bonnefoy yet?"

"..._Je te hais_, Alfred."

He blinked, cutting his walk to the couch short. "…What?"

"It's not important," Matthew said curtly, voice laced with a sigh. "Listen, I need you to do me a favor. Think you could, um… come to Beckley's? Please?"

That was a good hour's drive away. But Alfred flashed his best puppy-dog eyes at Samantha. He put his hand over the receiver end of his phone. "Mattie's a terrible, horrible pickle and he needs me to come get him out of it because he's a wimp and I'm awesome. Can I go?"

Samantha shrugged, completely nonplussed about traveling an hour down the road to ship her son off at a fancy restaurant. Certainly not the most eccentric, random thing she'd ever done. "Sure. Give me half an hour to get ready. I need to do something to my hair."

"Okay! We'll be there by eight. Think you can hold out for that long?" Alfred burst. He skipped back over to the fridge and got out all of his hamburger making supplies. Matthew would need one in order to cope with the horrible fancy food Francis was torturing him with. After all, hamburgers were true cuisine- especially Alfred's!

Matthew almost sounded panicked. "I-I'm not sure," he answered honestly. "Are you sure there's no other way you can come a bit sooner…?"

"I don't think so. No! Wait a minute! Earlier today, when we were all at Red Flower, I heard Katyusha tell Ivan that she'd take him out somewhere to go shopping. If she hasn't left yet, I'll ask if I can go with them. They should be ready to go by now," Alfred explained. He stuffed his supplies back into the fridge. "Hey, Mom! Can I go with Ivan and Katyusha?"

"Call them first!" she shouted back. "But sure!"

Alfred could practically see Matthew rubbing his abused ear. "Sorry," he apologized. "I'm gonna call them, okay? I'll see you soon. Don't instantaneously combust out there before I arrive."

"I'll try not to."

((((()))))

Katyusha always looked concerned about something, but tonight, it was down right stuttering worry. "Y-you're sure you want to get out here?" she repeated for the fiftieth time. "I-it's a long way to the mall _and _Matthew. Grigori can wait, can't he?"

Even though Alfred had spent the past hour annoyed and bored out of his mind, he had to admit it was funny to see both Ivan and his crazy huge dog frown and whine. If he pretended hard enough, he would almost believe that the hour-long ride had been entertaining. However, Alfred wasn't very good at imagining things while his background noise was complaints and anxious droning. "But he's been such a good guard dog, keeping stupid Alfred away from Natalya!"

It was true. When Alfred so much as _looked _in Natalya's general direction, the husky would give him a menacing growl, which, he refused to admit aloud, was really creepy. What was worst of all, Natalya cracked a mirthless smile every time Alfred would yelp in response to one of the dog's nasty looks.

Maybe he _should _have waited and gone with Samantha.

Katyusha finally sighed, pulling over to the side of the road. She shut everything off in silence, biting her lip as she did so. "I still have a bad feeling," Katyusha muttered. She turned to Ivan with tears in her eyes. "Please be careful?"

"I have Grigori and Alfred with me."

"Yeah! Hear that, Natalya? Even your brother thinks I'm a hero and-"

Ivan cleared his throat, cutting Alfred's boasting short. "I was about to say that you would make an excellent meat shield for me. While you… _distracted_ them with your obnoxiousness, Grigori and I would run away." He pleasantly grinned to himself. Alfred had the sinking suspicion that Ivan was imagining his pained screams as he was imaginatively torn apart. He wouldn't admit this either, but Alfred shivered. Something had been off about Ivan since he came back. Alfred wasn't sure what it was, but his heebie-jeebie spidey senses had never failed him before.

As Alfred thankfully hopped out of Katyusha's truck, he caught Natalya looking at him. He ignored Grigori's snarl long enough to give her a thumb's up. "I'll be a good meat shield. But only after the dog gets it first."

Natalya's eyes flickered to Katyusha, who was twittering on _again _to Ivan, and stuck her tongue out at him. "Don't make fun of Ivan's dog," she growled, sounding just as dangerous as the husky. But Alfred merely smiled. Honestly, it almost cute how she sounded so completely evil all the time. He knew Natalya wasn't nearly as maniacal as she tried to make herself out to be. After the breakdown he'd seen, Alfred was convinced that she was just trying to protect herself. Too bad she didn't realize that Alfred was always willing to be that shoulder for her to cry on.

He chuckled, stealing a quick hug that made her freeze up. "I won't. And I'll make sure Ivan isn't mugged for his shoes or something. Thank you for driving me, Ms. Braginski."

She instantly switched back to being as happy as she had been when Alfred asked to come with them. "Any time, Alfred! And come on, you know you can call me Katyusha!" The murderous glare Ivan cast him certainly said otherwise. Forcing the yelp back down his throat, Alfred waved goodbye and ran to meet Ivan, wasting no time in following Grigori down the street.

It was surprisingly warm out on the streets of the city. Alfred hoped that the freezing December weather had been all the winter they were going to get this season, and that spring and summer would come quickly. After all, everything terrible had happened with snow (or, in the wreck's case, rain).

Surely this was a sign that bad things were over, right?

"Alfred!"

He let out a screech, melding himself into a karate stance he'd learned from TV. "I KNOW KUNG FU!" Alfred shouted. Across the street, standing in the flashy lights of Berkley's, Matthew palmed himself. Ivan was muttering to himself in Russian, and Grigori looked like he'd be doing the same if he could talk. Everyone else on the streets… well, Alfred frankly didn't care if they stared at him like that.

The boys met each other half way. Alfred could tell from the way Matthew joked, "Didn't know you turned into Keanu Reeves over night." that he was seriously freaking out. Usually Matthew's jokes didn't have an ounce of funny in them. That one was almost decent. Alfred gaped. "Oh, geez, Mattie, don't tell me she said no."

Matthew blinked. Then he furiously shook his head. "No! He hasn't even _asked _her yet, and it's killing me, Alfred! I can't stay in there. Papa's cracking jokes that are worse than Arthur's."

"That's pretty bad."

"Exactly."

Alfred snapped his fingers impatiently, herding them over to a bench. "Come on, Braginski. I need you to help me be Oprah for the next several minutes."

Matthew wanted to protest, but stopped himself. That was exactly why he'd called Alfred, wasn't it? To once again push his problems on him? A new kind of guilt slammed into him. He was always so dependent on Alfred, wasn't he?

While Ivan wandered around, exploring the area with Grigori, Alfred fished an ink pen from his coat and grabbed an imaginary notepad. "Alright, Matthew. Tell me how this makes you feel."

Though he didn't know for sure, Matthew was almost positive that Oprah was not a psychiatrist. He was definitely sure that a psychiatrist wasn't what he needed. "Like I'm being a spoiled brat?" he deadpanned with a tired huff, leaning his chin on his palms. "Alfred, seriously. You're the only one I could call for this. Can't you make up some inspirational speech about how wonderful change is?"

"Oh, so you want me to be Obama, not Oprah? Make up your mind, man!"

Alfred smirked in triumph at getting a chuckle out of him, even if it was awfully unenthusiastic. The boy laced his fingers behind his head, staring up at the night sky. The stars were bright enough to be seen tonight, even with the street lamps angrily blaring in the way. The moon was fully illuminated too. Honestly, Alfred thought that tonight would have been bright enough to walk in without the street lights on.

"Hey, Mattie?" Alfred asked, his voice softer. "You really miss Jeanne, right?"

The answer was obvious. He nodded anyway, his eyes locking onto the busy street.

"What do you think she'd think about all this? I mean, with Francis and stuff. Think she'd be happy he's finally stepping out?" Alfred paused a moment, looking over at Matthew to gauge his reaction. His sullen look had turned into a thoughtful one. He reverted his gaze back to the stars with a faint grin. "I personally think she'd angry that he hadn't found someone earlier. Jeanne always wanted the best for people, didn't she? I kinda remember when she'd tuck us into bed and say our nighttime prayers with us."

There was nothing halfhearted about the smile on Matthew's face now. "'God bless Papa, Mama, Arthur,….'"

"…Antonio, Aria, Lovino, Feliciano…."

"Gilbert, Helda, Ludwig."

"Roderich, Elizabeta, Heilrich."

"Alice and Lars."

"Matthew…."

"…And Alfred."

They both finished the prayer together: "And lead us one day to heaven, to be with You there. _Alléluia, nous vous remercions Dieu. _Amen."

It took them both a while to stop laughing- so childishly innocent they'd both been back then. Everything was so different now. It made Alfred wonder where everything had begun to change, and who the change started with. But none of that mattered now. He'd sulk about that later. For now, he was busy making things right. "See?" Alfred grinned after he was sure Matthew's mood had lifted just the tiniest bit. "This is how Jeanne would want to see you. Smiling like the sap you are."

Matthew couldn't even find a retort. Instead, he shook his head. "Thank you, Alfred. Do you think you could give Papa a pep talk next?"

"Sorry buddy," Alfred apologized, jumping up to his feet, "but I'm all out of sagely wisdom for tonight. But you know you could always tell him Jeanne wants to kick him in the butt for being so lame in front of Therese. Putting shame to Frenchmen everywhere like that, commitment problems or no." Suddenly, after a quick look around, Alfred's eyebrows furrowed. "Where'd Braginski go?"

"Ivan?" Matthew asked, just as surprised. He'd been there just seconds ago, walking around aimlessly to wherever Grigori led him next. "He was just-"

But Alfred wasn't listening, panic shadowing his face. "He _left _me! How am I supposed to save his butt from danger and get Natalya to like me if _he isn't here?_"

This was not good. Alfred's afternoon plans hadn't just included brightening Matthew's day- it had also involved heroically saving the Stupid Commie Russian Freak (known to everyone else as Ivan) and thus winning over his sister! Because if Alfred didn't convince her that she was madly in love with her, when school started back, Toris would ask the SCRF- _hey, if I add an "A" in there, it'll spell SCARF!-_ all about Natalya. Since he liked Toris- _geez, poor guy_- there was a good chance Natalya would like him too.

And if Natalya liked him….

Alfred had to find Ivan right away.

"I gotta run, Mattie," Alfred spewed, hastily waving goodbye. Without waiting for his okay, the brunette turned and ran down the street and out of sight, swallowed by the crowd.

"Wait, Alfred! You can't just run off… down the street by yourself," Matthew ended in a sigh. He fell back against the brick wall of Berkley's and ran a hand through his hair. Only Alfred could ruin such a moment because of his silly superhero act. Matthew took a deep breath. If he stayed outside any longer, Francis would start to freak out. Another excuse.

Matthew wasn't about to give it to him. Steeling his own nerves, now sure that this was definitely right, he walked back into the restaurant.

((((()))))

Ivan was surprised to find a soft grin on his face. In confusion, he blinked, and it went away. How silly random smiles were. Before everything that had happened to him, Ivan wouldn't have had second thoughts about being cheerful. He had always been cheerful, polite, and as nice as possible. After all, Katyusha was happy and kind, so Ivan had tried his best to be the same. But now, he wasn't so sure if that was necessarily normal. Not that _he _was normal. Ivan was as strange as they came- aside from Feliks, of course, but the Pole was in an entirely different category of strange.

The sounds of fast cars and noisy people faded into a quiet stillness that made Ivan feel better. He did not like the loudness. It made his head hurt. Ivan reached down and scratched behind Grigori's ears. "Good boy," he chuckled, "taking care of me like this." And that too was true. Grigori was always looking out for him since Morozko had found him and given Grigori to Ivan. Grigori was the best friend he had. Toris and Eduard hadn't even talked to him, and Matthew had been too bothered to truly talk to him aside from a "Hello! Welcome back, Ivan!"

What was that even supposed to mean? _Welcome back? _Ivan wasn't coming back from a vacation. Being driven halfway across the country hadn't exactly been enjoyable. "Maybe the voice was right, Grigori," Ivan mumbled, his grip on the dog's leash tightening. "Maybe… maybe they really are afraid of me. I don't want them to be friends with me because I scare them into it. I want them to be friends because they like me- like _you _like me, Grigori."

He stopped walking altogether. That wasn't exactly true. He'd forgotten to add Yao onto his list of friends. He'd been so nice at Red Flower, offering to help him like that. And he supposed he should add his sisters as well. Katyusha and Natalya had been very excited to see him, hugging him so tight and crying. "They're wonderful," Ivan told his dog wearily. "They're so lovely. But I lied to them. I broke my promise to them…." He felt himself choking up, could see that his vision was starting to blur. Ivan rubbed his arm across his eyes. He hated crying. Thus, he decided to never cry again.

Now not crying, Ivan mentally changed subject away from his guilt. He narrowed his eyes at the crowded area he'd came from. Alfred sure was taking a long time talking. Figures, with that fat mouth of his. Alfred always seemed to be talking- to Ludwig, to Kiku, to Lovino, to Matthew, to anyone and everyone. Like they all loved him and wanted him to grace them with his presence.

Ivan found himself scowling. Stupid Alfred, always so noisy. He'd give Ivan a headache too with all of his boasting and shouting. _I'm the hero! _is what he told everyone. Ivan scoffed. Heroes were for fairytales, like Cinderella. They never come true.

"There you are, man!"

And speak of the devil….

Hiding his irritation well, Ivan turned to meet Alfred, running up to him. He met his obnoxious happy face with a slight frown. Alfred nodded back to whence he'd come. "Mattie's good to go. Ready to head to your sisters? Hey, why'd you come all the back in here?" he suddenly asked, as if just noticing they were in the darker, quieter part of town.

Alfred shivered, eyes growing wide as they darted around. "This is where the boogey men live!" he whispered furiously. "We have to hurry and go!"

Ivan couldn't help but roll his eyes. "Silly Alfred, boogey men don't exist."

"How do you know?" Alfred demanded in all seriousness.

Wondering if they were _really _having this kind of conversation, Ivan shook his head. "Boogey men are fictitious characters thought up by parents to scare their children with. They are the things of legend and story, Alfred, like your superheroes."

"SUPERHEROES ARE TOO REAL!"

Ivan winced at Alfred's booming shout. No longer hiding his annoyance, Ivan let the glares fly. Alfred didn't even care, nor did he pay attention. He was ranting on about how Captain America and his sidekick Bucky had been proud additions to World War II. Then, after arguing that it was thanks to Captain America that the Axis met their end, Alfred began speaking of Tony Stark- this "Iron Man". What kind of hero ran around in an iron suit? It was hardly convenient, technology or no. It would have been far too heavy to move around in. And today's technology was not nearly as advanced as Mr. Starks!

Sadly, when Ivan turned and walked away, Alfred followed. "Looks like we're going to have _loud _unwanted company, Grigori," Ivan muttered.

Alfred paused his story about the Green Lantern long enough to ask, "Who're you talking to, dude?"

"I did not speak a word, Alfred."

"Oh. Sorry. Could've sworn you'd said something like-"

He was cut off by a shrill scream. Alfred and Ivan's heads snapped to the left. In front of an old shop, now closed at this late hour, stood an old woman, clutching tightly at her purse. A man with a covered face had the other end of her purse.

Alfred's eyes narrowed dangerously. "A-Alfred," Ivan lowly warned, "I do not think it's best if we-"

"HEY!" Alfred shouted anyway. "Hey, you can't just take her purse! COME BACK HERE WITH THAT!"

"ALFRED!" Ivan burst, breaking into a run after him. Stupid, stupid Alfred! Heroes weren't real! He was _not _a hero! They were FAKE!

"You fool, you're going to get yourself stabbed or something!"

His warning fell on deaf ears too late.

**Translations**

**French-**

_**...Je te hais, Alfred- …I hate you, Alfred**_

_**All**__é__**luia, nous vous remercions Dieu.- Hallelujah, we thank you God.**_


	38. Chapter 38

**So sorry for not updating in half a month! I've been on a late-lent giving up Hetalia. Unfortunately, that meant I had to give up on the fic too. I'm back now, however, and I hope you guys aren't too mad at the long wait!**

**MissKitty23- I'm glad you've liked everything so far! Thank you for all your reviews! And Lars (somehow) keeps his drugs secret. That's how he's raising Alice without the police and whoever getting onto him for it.**

**Frankenweenie- YOUR PARENTS ARE READING THIS TOO? (Hi, parents of Frankenweenie!) But aside from that, I'm really glad you all have enjoyed the story thus far.**

**We have a few new characters who are mostly one-time used OC's of the ancients (except for a certain Korean):**

**Bong Chung (though briefly mentioned) is North Korea. She'll play a bigger part in the sequel; Eseld- Britannia; Brit- Brittany (used to be part of old France with Gaul, had major connections with Scotland); Wilhelm- Germania; Ansel- Cornwall; Aodhaigh- North Ireland; Neval- Gaul**

**Psh, there's totally no Kirkland family reunion in this chapter or anything….**

**BUT SERIOUSLY GUYS. I LOVE YOU ALL FOR READING THIS, GIVING ME ALL THESE KIND WORDS, AND FOR GETTING OTHER PEOPLE TO READ IT. You all are the best, and the only reason I've actually gotten to the end of something. Thank you so, so much, and I hope you'll read the last chapter next week and the epilogue after that.**

**Chapter 38-**

"I knew this was going to happen, I knew this was going to happen- I _told you _this was going to happen, didn't I?"

"A million times, _Sestra_."

Katyusha twittered on, completely ignoring Natalya rubbing her temples in exasperation. So she had foreseen something terrible happening. Whatever. The call from the hospital was probably just Alfred having been bitten by Grigori or something. Now _that _Natalya had been waiting for all night. A smirk inched its way onto her face as she imagined Alfred crying over his bandaged hand. He was such a baby. Afraid of ghosts, pouting like a two-year-old, crying all over the place because he left his dad-

Natalya let the grin slip from her face. That… that wasn't true. She had seen him crying while he talked on the phone to his father so many days ago, but she knew it wasn't because he was whining. Alfred usually joked about that. He didn't cry over a joke. And… he hadn't laughed at her when she broke down.

He was there for her- the first person to ever assure her things would be okay and _mean it._ Alfred was a mystery to her- one second, she absolutely hated him with every fiber of her being and wished he'd get stabbed in the gut. The next, she….

She focused back on Katyusha's crying. "-probably bleeding everywhere, and dying! I can't lose my baby brother after I just got him back! It's all my fault! He's in trouble all because I ignored my intuition and let them go! And Alfred's probably in terrible trouble too, and Arthur and Samantha and Matthew and everyone else are going to blame me too! I'm such a terrible person!"

"You're not a terrible person, Sestra." _Just annoying. Seriously. Can't you just shut up and stop blubbering long enough to drive?_

Wrong thing to say. Katyusha erupted into full-fledged sobs. "BUT I AM!"

Natalya was sure her eyebrow was twitching. "IF YOU DON'T PUT THIS TRUCK INTO GEAR RIGHT THIS INSTANT, I'M PUSHING YOU OUT AND DRIVING THERE MYSELF. AND WHEN I'M THE ONLY ONE WHO SHOWS UP, _BRAT_ WON'T LOVE YOU ANYMORE. HE'LL LOVE _ONLY ME _THEN!"

Even though she was partly kidding, Natalya had to admit her threat was a pretty good idea. If Ivan ended up hating Katyusha because of that, then he really _would _love only her. And that meant spending more time with him! Ivan would be all hers!

The tears still flowed freely from Katyusha's eyes, but the truck was started and swerving onto the road, causing three other vehicles to honk furiously at them. Natalya rolled her eyes. Pulling the _but he'll hate you! _card always got her sister moving.

Resting her head against the window, Natalya's eyes flickered at the fleeting cityscape. Somewhere in there was Ivan and Alfred, hopefully okay, just as she predicted. But there was always the chance that she'd be wrong, and… it scared her.

_I love them both._

((((()))))

"POL, YOU'RE GOING TO BREAK THE LAMP-"

The harsh sound of shattering glass and laughter interrupted the young man's shout.

Tino looked uncertainly up at Berwald, having second thoughts about this meet the neighbors business. That laugh had to be Feliks's doing, and Tino was honestly frightened by it. He'd already seen the damage done at Aria's party as a result of Feliks's "fun". It had taken hours to scrub off all the fluorescent pink, and even LONGER to explain to Aria that it was COMPLETELY NECESSARY to desecrate her bridesmaid's dresses like that. If he was apparently on good-enough terms with Tino's soon-to-be neighbors, then there was no telling what kind of chaos he'd be dragged into.

Unfortunately, Berwald didn't seem to share the same trepidation. He patted Tino's head in an attempt to comfort him and valiantly walked up to the door, completely ignoring a new voice screaming, "MY LAPTOP!". It was a long while before the house quieted down long enough for the door to open. A young man on the verge of tears stood before them. "Hello?" he tiredly asked.

Tino recognized him in an instant. "Eduard?" he burst in surprise.

Indeed, it was. The boy blinked and smiled. "Tino! What are you doing here? Ooh, it's cold out here. Come on in, you two."

The brothers wasted no time in doing so. Eduard, his little brother Raivis, and a third boy with dark brown hair Tino didn't know scurried about, quickly up the messes Feliks had made. Feliks himself sat on the couch, smiling brightly. "Like, hey, guys! Surprise seeing you two!"

"I'd normally say you should be helping us clean up, Pol," the brunette grumbled, sweeping up broken glass from what used to be the aforementioned lamp, "but I know you wouldn't."

"Ah, you know me so well, Liet," Feliks replied. "I'll, like, grab some cash from Tavian later to buy you a new lamp. I'll get one that totes fab-fab, unlike that ugly one from before."

Eduard didn't bother to tell him it had been a moving-in gift from their great aunt Geneva twelve years ago. It wasn't Feliks would have cared either way. Instead, Eduard offered his friend a seat. "So, what brings you here at this weird hour? Oh! This is Toris. I don't think you've met him yet. He's our brother."

Toris smiled and shook hands. Of course they already knew Feliks, and Tino had heard about Raivis from Eduard at school. Eduard and Tino were in Calculus and Physics together, and were pretty good friends. It would be great to have someone he already knew as a neighbor. Tino explained the situation as best as he could with Feliks's squealing "WE'RE, LIKE, GONNA HAVE THE BEST FUN EVER, GUYS" every three seconds. With the girly outburst, Tino feared he'd switched over into Anelie, but the Baltics didn't bat an eyelash. Maybe… this really _was _normal for him?

Tino was _really _starting to regret going with Berwald.

But still, he couldn't shake off the warm feeling in his chest. He was moving in with Berwald next to his best friend. Berwald wasn't nearly as picky as Abel and didn't complain as much as Emil. That meant… no sudden relocation. He'd… finally be able to… to _stay_.

This was the best day of his life.

((((()))))

"_APPA APPA APPA APPA APPA_, GUESS WHAT GUESS WHAT GUESS WHAT GUESS WHAT!"

Yao barely had time to sigh before Yong Soo rammed into him, making the older man stumble from the impact. He let out an involuntary shudder when Yong Soo's clingy arms wrapped themselves around his chest, squeezing him tightly. "Yes, Soo?"

"YOU WON'T BELIEVE THIS APPA, BUT THERE'S A NEW KID AT SCHOOL! I HEARD IT FROM TAO WHO HEARD IT FROM MICHELLE WHO HEARD IT FROM-"

"Stop shouting!" Yao hypocritically yelled. "And why aren't you doing the dishes? You're grounded, if I remember correctly."

Yong Soo pulled back with a miserable pout. "I _know_, _Appa_, but then I heard from Tao that we have a student! She's _KOREAN."_

A sudden silence fell over the hectic kitchen. Half of the remaining crowd in the dining area also ceased their banter in dread, everyone present snapping their heads around to stare at Yao Wang's most troublesome child. Yong Soo completely ignored them, bouncing on the balls of his feet. "Bong Chung- that means superior and noble, by the way- is her name! A HER! _Appa_, this is awesome! SHE'S FROM KOREA. SHE CAN HELP ME ON MY PRONUNCIATIONS NOW!"

Yao winced both at the information and at how he resumed his excited shouting. "Th-that's wonderful. But Yong Soo, you know it's rude to just jump her, so be sure to-"

"Oh," he interrupted, quickly falling serious, "I wouldn't dare be rude, _Appa_! I'm going to get Alfred and Mr. Bonnefoy and Tao to teach me how to win over a beautiful girl, because I'm positive she's a goddess."

_Being Korean doesn't make her a super model OR your future wife, Yong Soo…._

The boy continued, still slightly aghast that his father would ever accuse him of being rude. "You see, since her name is superior and noble- I did tell you that, right? Bong Chung! It's so… so Korean, da ze!- she's gotta be a really classy girl. So Alfred's going to teach me how to be a popular kid that girls love! Even though I've heard from Kiku that the girls secretly laugh at him behind his back, but I like Alfred too much to tell him. And Mr. Bonnefoy is French. That's enough for that. And Tao actually has a girlfriend! Man, I still can't get over that! I mean, I'm the better looking twin, right? Because I've got the Korean name, and everyone knows that girls love Koreans, since being hot originated in Korea."

…_Only you could understand that logic._

As he droned on and on about himself and Bong Chung, Yao could feel a migraine forming. Luckily, he was used to Yong Soo's banter, so he was able to shrug it off and resume cleaning tables. A good hour had passed until Yong Soo seemed satisfied that Yao knew just how amazingly beautiful and stunning and ethereal Bong Chung was. Seeing his raving over for the moment, Yao shooed him back to the kitchen, shaking his head wryly.

Kids these days. Always so caught up in their "nows" rather than their futures. But Yao couldn't blame him one bit. "Now" was what determined the future, wasn't it? If one didn't let their "nows" go to waste, surely their futures would come out okay. After all, Yao knew full well what throwing away a good opportunity could do to one's future. He intended to keep Yong Soo happy and as Korean as could be, Kiku as studious and polite, Xiao Mei as caring and fiery, and Tao as quietly dignified and strong. He wouldn't allow them to make the same mistakes he had, and he wouldn't allow them to have any less than perfect.

There was one thing, however, he really couldn't stand; Yong Soo's ecstasy or no.

He absolutely _had _to stop using up all their vegetables and seafood for kimchi!

((((()))))

Katyusha and Natalya crashed through the hospital doors, running up to the receptionist. "I-Ivan Braginski and Alfred Kirkland?" Katyusha breathlessly asked. "I'm his sister. H-his guardian."

The young woman nodded. "Mr. Braginski didn't check himself in. I heard he hadn't suffered any injuries." The two sisters let out a sigh of relief. "He's with the police in Alfred's room."

And Natalya's relief turned into dread. Her navy eyes widened. "R-room? You mean… he got hurt? What happened to him? Alfred isn't in bad condition, is he?"

Gaping hopelessly, the woman shook her head. "I'm sorry, I don't know much about his condition. He's supposed to be in room 423 later. I'm sure Ivan or the officers have information for you."

Katyusha took Natalya's hand before she could start yelling. "Let's go, _Sestra._"

Struggling to keep her eyes clear and dry, Natalya tightly nodded. She didn't pull her hand away from Katyusha's.

((((()))))

"The stars are quite marvelous tonight, aren't they," Francis softly noted. Dinner hadn't exactly been a success, but in a way, it had been. Francis just wasn't sure if he could say he loved it or not. However, he was sure he definitely loved Therese now.

Not exactly as a test, Francis had taken her out for dinner. It was awkward having that tiny box in his pocket all night, but despite that, they'd had a good time. That was enough for him. Matthew had ran out because he was "feeling sick", but he'd come back all grins, so Francis knew he'd called over Alfred. He felt like rolling his eyes, thinking about those two, but he knew to keep in the moment.

Therese laced her arm through his and nodded. "You can see them so clearly…. _Très enchanteur_."

"Not as enchanting as you, my dear."

Matthew quirked a quiet, knowing grin on his face and Francis felt every bit of nervousness leave him. Stunning both Therese and Michelle, he withdrew the small velvet box and opened it. "I hope this will remind you of this night," he said, kneeling on one knee, "and of how brilliantly the stars cast their silvery light upon on us. I love you, Therese, and I want to spend the rest of my days with you. You've been so much to me, never leaving when I ran out on you; always remembering to keep a promise, even if it meant driving all the way to Massachusetts. I know, because of these things, I haven't done the same for you. But even so… will you marry me?"

He took the solid embrace and tears as a yes.

((((()))))

The night air chilled her face when Lili took a hesitant step out of the doors of the hospital, her home for the past month. It certainly had seemed much longer than that, though. Vash pulled her coat closer around her and took her hand. "It's gotten warmer," he murmured. Although his voice was just as bland as usual, Lili could see the happiness shining in his eyes. He hadn't gotten his healthy daughter back yet, but he was taking her back to her _real _home; back to the warmth she'd thought she'd lost forever. Already, in taking the first few steps to the parking lot, oxygen machine at her side in Vash's other hand, Lili felt so much better. It would take a while to get back to school- and even longer to get adjusted to normal life with cancer- but Lili was certain she could be strong.

Just like Lovino. Lili didn't need to think of all the things he'd gone through to know he was a fighter. Sure, back at school, Lovino had been the most cowardly boy she'd ever met. He emitted girly screams whenever Ludwig or Alfred would "sneak up" on him, and he'd always hide his nervousness behind a plethora of muttered curses he didn't know she'd heard. But she loved him for it anyway.

Lili felt the blush rise to her cheeks at the thought. She hid her face in her coat, explaining to Vash that the air was making her nose cold. Vash took the joke with seriousness, hurrying her off to the car and immediately turning on the heat. He had even brought along a blanket for her to snuggle up in during the ride home. Lili faintly smiled at her father's twittering, asking her if she was warm enough, or if she still had the headache from earlier, or if she needed this or that….

"I'm fine, _Vati_," she giggled. "I am perfectly alright."

"But you're sure you're not co-"

"In such a thick coat and under a blanket? I'm okay."

Vash merely sighed in acquiescence. The ride was a short one, laced with a comfortable silence accented by Vash's nearly inaudible humming. Lili loved the simple moments like this. If she could just have these, she knew she'd be okay forever. She leaned over and rested her head on Vash's shoulder, making him start. "_Ich liebe dich, Vati_."

"I love you too, Lili."

((((()))))

Natalya couldn't help but cry out in relief when she found Ivan sitting in a recliner-like chair thing, slightly frowning as he stared out the window. Two policemen were also in the room, though they had taken to watching MASH on the TV. All three snapped their heads around to see Natalya run in and throw her arms around Ivan's neck. She felt him flinch before he patted her back, returning the hug somewhat guiltily. "Are you okay, _Brat_? What happened? You're not hurt are you? What about Alfred?"

"I-I…," Ivan started thickly, eyes darting to the floor. After taking a deep breath, Ivan ground out, "I broke a man's femur bone. With a metal pipe. B-because he was trying to take this old lady's purse, a-and Alfred tried to stop him b-but he had a knife and stabbed Alfred and- and I couldn't stop myself! I'm sorry, _Sestra_, but I had to make him hurt because he hurt Alfred and-"

Ivan again cringed when Natalya jerked back, eyes wild and tearing. "He was _what?_"

She felt something violently _crack _inside her chest, stealing the breath out of her lungs. It sent a shudder through her, made her head spin. Both Ivan and Katyusha reached out to steady her before she stumbled back and fell.

Natalya let out a howling Russian curse.

Her stupid heart, breaking _again._

((((()))))

Even though he was in more pain than he'd ever felt before, Achaius sort of liked being home on leave from service.

He laid on his couch, cigar lazily hanging from his teeth, Aldwin faintly humming in the kitchen as cleaned up the remains of breakfast- delicious salty porridge, fixed just the way Achaius loved it.

Suddenly, his dearest brother Aldwin ruined this delightful morning for him. "_Sut hyfryd. _We're getting a call from America."

America meant Arthur. And Arthur meant a migraine of enormous proportions.

"Ignore it," Achaius sagely advised, skimming through today's paper.

"What if it's important?"

"Ye _ignore it._"

Aldwin cast him a withering glare before answering the phone anyway. "Hello-?"

Achaius could hear the outburst all the way in the living room. He craned his neck around as far as he could without jostling something that would scream in painful protest. He bit back his sweet _told ye so_ and asked, "Artie?"

Much to his surprise, Aldwin shook his head no. Before he could explain, another angry barrage pelted his abused ear. The brunette wandered farther into the kitchen, speaking soothing Welsh to calm the person on the other side. Glad Aldwin couldn't see it, Achaius knitted his fiery eyebrows in worry. America and _not _Arthur meant something bad. "I think it's your mother, Achaius," the soft voice of his wife Brit Kirkland said above the couch. She leaned against the back, sighing at his aghast gape. Brit cocked an eyebrow at the sight. "Who else besides Aìlin would scream like that? Besides Arthur, of course."

"What's me mum doin' in _America? _A thought she was vacationin' at Inverness?"

Brit shrugged. "I dunno, honeycakes. Oh- I forgot to tell you. Uncle Neval called earlier. Apparently Wilhelm passed away.

Achaius's eyes went wide. "Old Willie? When'd he kick the bucket?"

"About a month ago."

"…Neval's that forgetful, eh?"

"Yeah."

"WE CAN'T CALL OVER AÌLIN AND ANSEL!" Aldwin shouted from the kitchen. "Mum, you can't possibly expect us to magically come up with a few hundred dollars each to head to America right now. Achaius is still injured and- wait, what do you mean you were mugged? Mum? What- the hospital? Why're you at…. WHAT?"

Tearing into the living room, phone discarded back on the counter, Aldwin burst, "Alfred's been stabbed!"

Achaius and Brit exchanged looks of horror.

"…We've got to call Aodhaigh," Brit murmured. "He's the only person who can talk to Aìlin and not get strangled. Aldwin, go ahead and call Ansel. If we leave now, we can reach America in a few hours and keep Peter and Arthur from falling apart. Poor lad… first his wife leaving him half a year ago, then us sending Peter to him, and now this with Alfred…."

"…Dear," Achaius slowly started, "ye need ta stop gettin' yer information from Uncle Neval. It's been a lo' longer than half a year…."

((((()))))

Ludwig wasn't sure how to react to… _this._ He'd known Gilbert to be eccentric, and he knew Antonio wasn't exactly the brightest crayon in the box sometimes. But to go camping in the middle of _winter_?

_In their living room?_

"…What are you two doing here?" Ludwig incredulously asked, stunned to walk into the living room and see Feliciano sitting amongst his dogs, giggling and giving them tummy scratches. Antonio and Gilbert were, as usual, scheming a plan to ruin Francis's life just a little more while they pitched a tent in front of the couch. Ludwig compulsively ran a hand through his hair to assure himself it was still slicked back. Finding all was well, he turned to his mother for an explanation. Helda, having arrived with him from their bakery, merely shrugged before she left to start on some snacks.

"_Grazie_, Mrs. Beilschmit!" Feliciano called, waving at largely at her retreating form. The boy turned his sights on Ludwig. "Ooh! Luddy- do you mind if I call you Luddy? Anyway! Papà said he'd take me camping, and Gilbert said he'd come to, but since it's winter and really cold outside and Mamma would kill Papà if he let me sleep outside, we came here! Isn't it so cool? We're going camping in your living room!"

The little boy eagerly awaited his response. Ludwig blinked. Silence. He opened his mouth, then shut it back. Finally, he groaned. "Vati, how many times have I told you _not _to let Italians in the house?"

"But he's so much cuter than stuffy ole' Lovino!" Gilbert burst. He patted Feli's head, said Italian absolutely beaming. "See? How can you say no to a face like that?"

Well, he was a lost cause. "_Mutti_, Dad's on one of his girly 'cute' rants."

"He'll get over it in a minute or two," his mother replied back.

It appeared Ludwig too was a lost cause. With another sigh, he grabbed the instructions and went to work properly setting up the tent. _Honestly_, Ludwig inwardly scoffed, _can't you two admit you can't fix it by yourselves and look at the manual?_

Feliciano was a bright chattering background noise. Ludwig absently hummed to his often extremely questions, going along with whatever he came up with. It was a lot easier than properly engaging in conversation where Ludwig had to struggle to understand his fast speech. Geez. Did this kid even stop to breathe? But surprisingly… Ludwig didn't find Feliciano too insufferable. Finding him annoying, however, was a completely different subject. As Feli raved on and on about this or that, Ludwig felt himself faintly smiling. It felt strange to smirk while he had a migraine forming, but he couldn't bring himself to tell Feli to shut up.

He was starting to understand Lovino a bit more now.

Almost mechanically, Ludwig looked down at his watch. Ten on the dot. Time to walk the dogs again. Feliciano bounced up. "Pleeeeeeeease can I go with you? Maybe we'll see Tino! He walks his dog at night, too. Plus, if you go out there all alone, you'll get lonely. I'll make sure you don't get lonely!"

Again, Ludwig blinked uncertainly. Then, lips moving on their own accord, he said, "Alright. Coat on. No getting above a whisper. Don't go faster than the dogs. Don't trip and fall on the sidewalk or something."

"Alright! _Grazie grazie grazie_, Luddy!"

"I never said you could call me-"

"I'll go get my coat right now!"

Once they and the trio of German Shepherds made their way outside, Gilbert and Antonio met each other's stunned faces. "Ludwig was… grinning," Gilbert slowly said. "…I think Feliciano broke him."

"Feli does that to people."

((((()))))

"I can't get his levels down to normal," a nurse frantically burst. "If he keeps this up, he'll likely go into shock."

"Give him another sedative. Good God, what'd the guy do, try and twist everything apart? Carry! Where's that blood transfusion? We don't have but a few minutes here! He's bleeding out!"

"I'm here, I'm here. We haven't matched his blood type yet. We're giving him O."

"Good, good. Are we ready for surgery yet?"

"Anesthesia's kicking in."

_...I can't go to sleep. _But still, it was getting harder and harder to keep his dazed eyes open_. _Obviously, the doctors and surgeons and nurse thought he was unconscious, sleeping unaware that they were fussing over the probability of his staying amongst the living just a little longer.

_I can't go to sleep_, Alfred fruitless thought to himself, feeling consciousness slip out of his fingers. _I haven't told Dad it wasn't his fault, I haven't told Mattie and Kiku and everyone else that I'm sorry, and..._

...I haven't told Natalya I love her.

Alfred felt his eyes shut of their own volition. He wasn't sure if he'd ever open them.

**Translations**

**Korean-**

_**Appa- Dad**_

**French-**

_**Très enchanteur- Very enchanting.**_

**German-**

_**Ich liebe dich, Vati.- I love you, Daddy.**_

**Welsh-**

_**Sut hyfryd.- How lovely.**_


	39. Chapter 39

**I'd really appreciate it if everyone left a review on this chapter about what you think overall of the book. Please give some good constructive criticism. Don't be afraid to call me a sadist or a heartless Samantha-wannabe. I'm down with whatever. I really need to know what I need to work on, because the original version of this is going to severely edited and later sent in to the cheapest publisher I can find. Pleeeeeeeease help me out, everyone?**

**Plus, I lied. NEXT chapter is the last. I didn't realize I had forgotten to resolve the whole too-long-avoided sorry excuse of a love triangle I threw Lovino, Alice, and Lily into. THEN we get to the epilogue. :D**

**It's going to be later in May before I get the epilogue out. I sort of have to write a book for my best friend by the end of this month (which is why this chapter is so astoundingly late), so I'm going to be working my butt off on that. Since I've procrastinated almost two years on writing it.**

…**Yeah.**

**Chapter 39-**

The room was still- completely frozen in time, locked away in silence. Natalya had fallen asleep well over an hour ago, nestled at Ivan's side, his arm over her shoulder. Ivan himself was barely awake, trying his best to focus on the muted TV instead of the lulling call of sleep. The MASH loving policemen had left around the time Natalya fell asleep, leaving behind a room untouched in the night. Katyusha knew she should probably call Francis or someone to ask about Arthur. She knew Samantha was here already- she'd been stalking the halls nervously, eyes puffy and red, distractedly talking to this "Mrs. Dubose" woman on her cell phone. Ivan had explained she had been the one with him in Kansas.

What a small world they lived in. While the hours rolled by, Katyusha entertained herself with connecting the dots. Almost everyone she knew had a back story with someone else she knew. Samantha and Ivan both knowing Mrs. Dubose, for example. Sadiq being Feliciano and Lovino's uncle and also a friend of Ivan. Vash being the paramedic at the time of the wreck; Alfred being the little boy she'd seen so long ago. Katyusha couldn't help but silently chuckle. Next thing she knew, the mysterious old woman Alfred and Ivan had saved would be Alfred's grandmother or something.

"And you haven't bothered to ask anyone how he is?"

"You expect me to just waltz into the ER and demand to see Alfred?"

"You certainly had no qualms banging on my door!"

Their silence was broken. Arthur must have finally arrived. Katyusha steeled herself for the sorry sight and peeked her head out the door. Peter gripped the side of Arthur's jacket, practically swaying on his feet. She fought off the urge to rush for him and cradle him to sleep. Darned mother's instinct. Instead, she quietly cleared her throat. "Um, they said they'd be bringing him in here," Katyusha twittered, successfully getting their attention.

Arthur's bloodshot eyes calmed down the tiniest bit to see Katyusha. "R-right. Come along, Peter."

The boy dazedly nodded and stumbled along. Katyusha caught sight of his own tired, puffy eyes. "There's another seat in here- let me see if I can get the nurses to bring us in a few more." With that, she scurried away. Katyusha couldn't stand the sight of others crying- it brought tears to her own eyes. And right now, she couldn't afford to be crying. If Natalya and Ivan were truly that upset, Katyusha had to be strong for them. No more Miss Nice Katty.

"Excuse me, dearie."

Katyusha promptly stopped and spun on her heel. Before her stood a thin woman with platinum hair and slightly yellowed crooked teeth in her smile. The knitted shawl she wore had a slight rip in the side, but it did nothing to mess up the "kind, old grandmother" look she had going on. Her lacy dress was a dark maroon that matched her dark brown modest shoes and the clip in her hair. She reached out a wrinkled hand. "My name is Eseld Kirkland. Do you know if my son Arthur is here yet? I could have sworn I heard him a minute ago."

Her head reeled. Speaking of the funny ways everyone knew each other…. "Y-yes, actually," Katyusha blinked. "He's just down the hall with his wi-… er… ex-wife and nephew."

Eseld's pleasant demeanor instantly turned sour. "That squalling banshee?" the woman deadpanned. "I told Arthur she would be bad for him- does he listen to his dear mum? Of course not. Never did listen- certainly not as polite as Ansel or Aldwin. I tell you, my Arthur was most rambunctious child…." Suddenly, she broke off into soft laughter, reverting back to her quiet self. "Oh, dearie, pardon my old ramblings. Thank you so much for your help. May the faeries of Erie, Albiore, and Alba watch over you."

With that, she was on her merry way.

Katyusha decided to keep away from any new Kirklands that decided to randomly pop up.

((((()))))

"What's wrong, Mathew?"

The blonde jerked back to reality at Michelle's voice. He nervously grinned. "Eh, it's nothing. Just… I don't know, I kinda expected Alfred to jump out of shadows or something. He was going shopping with Ivan and Katyusha."

Michelle nodded knowingly. "Ah. The Russians. Tao tells me they're weird. Xiao Mei fusses about how quiet and awkward Natalya always is, and Kiku says Ivan is kind of creepy."

"He's not creepy," Matthew muttered under breath, just a tad defensively. Sure, Ivan wasn't Mr. Sunshine, but he was a good kid. Just… slightly off his rocker at times. Really, considering how wacko Mr. Braginski had been, it wasn't _that _strange. But besides that, Ivan was nice and as best a friend to depend on as any.

"Er, sorry," Michelle quietly apologized. It wasn't everyday she saw an angry Matthew. "So… how about we go find him then?" When Matthew looked away from his dress shoes, Michelle beamed and continued. "I mean, Mom and Francis probably want their icky, romantic _alone time_, right? So we can just hang out with Alfred and Ivan for a while."

"Wonderful idea!"

The two yelped at Francis's random intervention to the conversation. The Frenchmen had that look in his eye that told Matthew he'd be spending the night mentally scrubbing out his brain. Matthew really hated that, but there was no stopping Francis when he got started….

Matthew couldn't help but make a face at that thought. _Ugh. Let the mind-scrubbing begin._

Ignoring Michelle and Francis's weird looks to his own weird look, Matthew softly smiled. "Okay. We'll just ride home with them if it's not too bad? And if not, I think Alfred said something about Samantha coming later. We can catch a ride with her."

Francis, frankly, looked like he could care less about his son and soon-to-be step-daughter implicating someone's ride home. He was already grinning to Therese, and Matthew was rubbing his temples.

Please _don't let me hear in a few days that I'm going to have a new brother or sister…._

After the flirting two made their leave, Michelle and Matthew simultaneously faked a retch.

((((()))))

Alfred could almost understand why those stupid bugs flocked to lights.

It was too bright and beautiful for words, really. The blaring white all around, nearly blinding him, but at the same giving him a new light to look at things with. If he looked hard enough through the endless white, he could see he was standing in an incredibly girly scene: flowers at his feet, azure sky overhead complete with fluffy clouds, a few Thumpers and Bambis frolicking around, and a slender young woman with bobbed golden hair smiling softly at him.

He ignored the picturesque scene and focused on her.

Alfred had seen this woman countless times before. Pictures of her were all over the place in Francis's living room- even after ten years. Although he barely knew a thing about her, Alfred now felt as though he knew her better than anyone. Maybe that was the white's doing. He felt funny all over because of it. But again, Alfred didn't want to think about that. He was beginning to get a bad feeling about all of this- everything but Jeanne.

She moved to him first, a smile on her rosy lips; a light dancing in her pale blue eyes. Gently, she put her soft ivory hand on his cheek. "Look at you," Jeanne slightly chuckled, shaking her head ruefully. "You've gotten so tall, Alfred."

A bashful blush flew up to meet his face. "Y-yeah," he said. "I guess I have, huh?"

"Come walk with me."

It was easier to see the girly scenery now. Almost instantly, it was like Alfred's eyes had adjusted to freaky brightness. The foreboding seemed to creep up on him again, but he shrugged it away. It was pathetic to admit, but Alfred had never felt safer with Jeanne holding his hand. In fact, he almost felt like swinging their arms and howling with laughter, like he'd do when he was a kid. He suddenly remembered that he only held onto Jeanne and Arthur's hands like this. Not even Mattie, his faithful little sidekick, had gotten that out of him.

Jeanne was humming- humming _La Mer_, the song Francis had sung at her funeral. Her most favorite song in the whole world. "It means the sea," she suddenly said. There was a thoughtful tilt to her head, the springy curls almost falling into her face. "I hadn't realized it before, but it's almost a metaphor for life."

"How is it a metaphor for life?"

She sighed. "Okay, so it isn't. I was just trying to get a poetic feel for my speech."

Alfred couldn't help but quirk a grin.

Feeling accomplished, Jeanne mirrored the smile and spun around to meet him, arms wide, gesturing to the beauty around them. "It's so stunning, isn't it? The air is so crisp and clean, and there isn't a care in the world to bother you here. You feel it too, can't you? That lovely feeling of being free- free, free at last." Another spin and she took Alfred's hands. "But there's still something eating at you, isn't there? You still feel like there's something you should be worried about. You don't want to be here. Despite everything that is so perfect here, you prefer life out there."

Of course, the French woman was completely right. This place- wherever it was- did make him feel free. If he tried hard enough, he could completely forget about everything and everyone and stay here forever.

Jeanne's expression sobered just the tiniest bit. Acute sadness replaced the flittering happiness on her face. Her hand was on his cheek again. "But you know that's not right."

"B-but," Alfred spluttered, taking her wrist and stepping away. Pain flashed in her eyes. "But… maybe I _don't _want to go back."

"You never told him, though!" Jeanne desperately burst.

The white was coming back.

She clasped his hand between her own two. "Please, Alfred. Just listen to me. You're going to want to stay here- stay in that garden or in this light- but you _can't._ You never told Arthur it wasn't his fault. A-and what about Matthew? Can you really leave him? He's your best friend, Alfred. Please! Kiku too- he's also your best friend, isn't he? And Lovino and Ludwig and Tino and Natalya- just look at all the people you know and love. Can you really leave them behind?"

He found it hard to speak. It was hard to breathe, even. Hard to keep himself together instead of breaking down and sobbing in front of Jeanne. Dead, long gone Jeanne, standing here in front of him, begging him not to die too.

Realization slammed into him, buckling his knees. He threw his arms around Jeanne's neck, sobbing in terror. "I-I-I'm d-dying, Jeanne! I'm _dying!_"

"I'm not going to let you die, Alfred," she stonily told him, tightly holding onto him. Everything about her changed completely. Jeanne wasn't a sweet mother anymore- she was a fierce, steadfast warrior, ready to fight until she couldn't anymore for Alfred. Her eyes didn't hold the light anymore. Instead, there was a fire in them. "I promise, Alfred. I'm not letting you stay here. It isn't your time yet. You've got your parents, your friends, and a girl you, dare I say, love. That's too much to give up, and I won't let you."

"But _you _gave up."

"I didn't. I just didn't have a choice. But you, Alfred, _do _have a choice."

He'd never felt so small, so weak. But Jeanne, coincidentally, had never looked so big and strong. "Just say you want to go back," her soft voice echoed. Alfred watched in terror as she started to fade away, her smile losing its shine. "And Alfred… please. Don't forget me, okay? Don't let me become just a picture on the wall." He heard the absent sound of ambulance sirens fill his head, the sound of Francis's crying, of Roderich playing _La Mer _so beautifully on the piano.

Alfred didn't want the same to happen because of him. He clenched his fists. "I want to go back," he shouted, his voice cracking halfway through his declaration. "I want to go back! Take me back!"

The light kept growing, getting harsher and brighter until it was a battle to keep his eyes from frying.

Conveniently, almost all of Lovino's curses came to mind. Alfred had half a mind to put them to use, but before he could, a frantic voice shouted, "_It's starting back! His heart, it's starting back!_"

He felt something yank him to the floor.

"_I-I can't believe it!"_

"…_Just when we were about to pronounce him dead. It's… it's a miracle."_

"_Can you hear me? Alfred?"_

"Alfred?"

At first, when he opened his tired, heavy eyes again, he thought nothing had changed; that he was still in that harsh light. However, he was sure there hadn't been a pale ceiling in the white, or the blurry, worried and relieved faces hanging over him. Alfred squinted his eyes, trying to block out the light burning his eyeballs. They quickly turned off the light. It was considerably darker but, he dazedly thought, that could have been from all the brightness he'd been subject to.

His voice was raspier and quieter than it'd ever been when Alfred asked, "My glasses?"

A doctor turned and called over his shoulder. "Ivan still has them, doesn't he? Tell his parents he finally woke up. Leave out the details. I'll explain everything in a moment." He turned back, incredulously shaking his head. "You were almost a goner there, Alfred."

"I know," he said with a tired huff. Before anything else could be said, he felt consciousness leave him once more.

((((()))))

"_You're _where_?"_

Ivan irritably sighed, fighting off the urge to yawn. After he'd finally drifted off to sleep, Matthew had to call him, complaining that Alfred wasn't picking up his phone. While he explained his reason for calling, Ivan briefly wondered if Alfred had dropped his phone, or if it was still in his jacket. He also wondered if the coat had gotten damaged. If so, they wouldn't have a happy Alfred when he came out.

If_ he comes out, you mean._

_I thought I lost you in Kansas, Voice._

It was silent, and Matthew's voice had pitched in worry when Ivan had told him they were at the hospital. "I'll send Katyusha after you," Ivan offered, gently sliding out from under Natalya, careful not to wake her. He made his quiet way over to an eerily silent Samantha, sitting beside Arthur and Peter. The boy was asleep on Arthur's lap, using his shoulder as a pillow. Arthur looked ready to join him in sleep, but he was adamant about staying awake. "I'm sorry to bother you, but do you know where my sister went?"

Before she could answer, the door opened. Instead of Katyusha, much to their surprise, walked in an elderly woman. Arthur sucked in a terrified gasp, now very much awake. "M-Mum? What are you…?"

"Coming to clean up my grandson's mess," she answered snappily. "He called me a few days ago, saying he had spilled some salt. Poor child forgot how to get rid of the bad luck. My phone went out before I could tell him to toss it over his shoulder. Now he's in the bloody hospital! Honestly, Arthur, didnae ye even tell yer boy the basics?"

Ivan blinked in surprise at her sudden change in accent. Then, anger overtook him when he recognized the woman. Completely forgetting he was supposed to be arranging a ride for Matthew and Michelle, Ivan hissed, "You were the stupid woman who got him stabbed!"

"Don't call my mum stupid!" Arthur yelled, snapping Peter awake.

Said boy fell into the floor. "Uncle Farty!" he burst, throwing an accusing snarl up at him. "I was sleeping!"

"And I see the banshee _is _here!" Eseld next turned to Samantha, her lip curled in distaste.

"Banshee?" Samantha burst, rising to her feet. "BANSHEE? You call me a banshee when _you're_ worse than _Aìlin _on the days she snaps a string on her fiddle?"

Matthew's worried voice in his ear snapped Ivan back to attention. He quickly apologized and strode towards the door purposefully, tossing a leer over his shoulder. "Apparently Alfred's grandmother has arrived. She's got Samantha and Arthur in a shouting match now."

Ivan frankly didn't even want to know how Eseld had gotten here and why the old woman had considered getting Alfred stabbed as helping him. She made him sick to his stomach- and he did not even like Alfred! Still, he could fuss about that later. He had to calm Matthew down before he started hyperventilating. Ivan frowned.

Telling him Alfred was stabbed would not go over well.

((((()))))

"You'd best have a good reason for interrupting my practice or I'll stab you with my violin bow right now."

"Ye call that howling agony practice?" Achaius couldn't help but jab in. A glare from his brothers quickly silenced him.

Aodhaigh, the baby brother of the Kirklands, sighed and went straight to work calming their only sister down and explaining the situation. Her pale eyebrows furrowed in worry after a long story. Aìlin frowned at the gathered circle on her porch, tapping her bow irritably at her leg. Finally, with a sigh, she waved them inside. "Let me get my things packed. Mum's already over there, right? She'll keep Artie straight. Don't touch _anything, _Achaius, or I'll make that hole in you seem like a mere bee sting."

Brit skipped along after her to help.

Achaius wilted back into the couch's softness the instant the girls had disappeared. Not that he cared anyway, but Achaius smart-alecky mused to himself that _surely _"don't touch anything" wouldn't apply to the injured guy sitting on the couch. And even better if it did indeed count.

Almost seeming to read his mind, Ansel cleared his throat in that no-nonsense way of his. "We're supposed to be getting along here, _Rudh_. That means keeping out of Aìlin's hair. At least for a few days?"

The ginger huffed. "Killjoy."

"I try my best."

((((()))))

Natalya had never been a heavy sleeper. Thus, the new voices in the room instantly aroused her. The blonde stiffly rubbed her eyes and blinked the heaviness away. Samantha, Arthur, and Peter were here already, as was Matthew and Michelle (the former worriedly, sullenly standing at and staring out the window beside Ivan; the latter leaning against the wall, texting someone- probably Tao or her mother). Natalya silently slipped over to Ivan, circling her arms around him. "What time is it, _Brat?_" she quietly asked.

Ivan slightly flinched at the sudden contact. However, he gently pried Natalya off of him and said, "Almost three. _Sestra _is getting some food. She's getting McDonalds for Alfred."

"Alfred?" Natalya quickly inhaled. "I-is he okay? Have you heard anything?"

A strange look came over Ivan's face, but he kept it under control with a smooth smile. "The nice doctor came in and said he was okay. It'll be morning until they bring him in here."

A weight melted off of her. Natalya silently sighed in relief, wilting back into a hug. "I'm thankful you're alright, _Brat._ You haven't even been home a day, and look what's happened! But it's okay. It's okay."

A quietness fell over the room. Natalya was alright with that.

Peter broke the silence: "Grandmum, you really came all the way here because Alfred spilled some salt?"

Eseld (whom Ivan quietly explained to be Alfred's grandmother) took the partly sarcastic question very seriously. "It is said, young one, that spilling salt is an omen of family problems and death. With that said, I couldn't possibly stay at home and leave Alfred at the mercy of the Devil's trickery. Who's to say it wouldn't get worse because of the family's history of bad luck? And everyone knows Arthur always had extra nasty luck after your aunt cursed him for fifty years with those pesky leprechauns of hers. Good fortune my foot- they'll rob ye blind if you let them! Why do you think Arthur never had good luck with money, or holding down a job? Couldn't even keep the banshee- though that's mostly your fault," she hissed, turning with a glare to Samantha. Not even missing a beat, Samantha stuck her tongue out at her and huffily turned away.

Arthur sighed. "Still twenty-eight years to go on those leprechauns…. Curse you, Aìlin."

"I'm not sure we'll last that long at this rate," Matthew finally spoke. He dropped his chin in his palms, leaning against the window sill. "What is it about winter always bringing bad things?"

"Because of Morozko," Ivan glared assuredly. "Morozko was named after the Russian Jack Frost after all."

Eseld's head snapped towards Ivan. "A Russian legend? Please, tell me!"

A wry smile popped up on Ivan's face. An old childish light danced in his eyes- Ivan had always loved fairy tales. Even the ones with bad endings, such as the legend of Morozko. "It's a cliché step-mother situation. The step-mother doted on her daughter and despised her step-daughter. So, she ordered her husband to cast the child out into the snow so she'd never have to see or hear her ever again. The husband- the girl's father- didn't want to forsake her like that, but his wife always had her way. He left quickly, not wanting to see his little girl freeze in the harsh cold.

"Morozko appeared then, thinking only of sucking all the warmth from her so she'd die. After all, what right did she have being in his forest? To mock her, Morozko asked, 'Are you warm, Lass?'. She surprised him by answering sarcastically, 'I am very warm, my dear Morozko.'. He appreciated her stoicism and gave her a thick, insulated coat and left. Later, he came back to check on her. She was warmer, but was tired of standing. However, she wouldn't let on that her legs were about to collapse under her. Morozko conjured up a box for her to sit and rest on. He came back once more, fascinated with the child. Morozko gave her precious gems and golden jewelry.

"Back at the family's home, the father could not stand the separation any longer and went back to the forest to retrieve his daughter's body. Instead, he found her warm, rested, and bearing many riches. He brought her back home. The step-mother was elated with the riches, and decided she wanted more. She told her husband to take her favored daughter out to the same spot in Morozko's forest.

"Of course, Morozko found her. When he asked her if she was warm, the insolent girl scornfully sneered at him. 'You stupid old man,' she cursed, 'I'm freezing to death out here! Give me the coat and box and riches you gave to my step-sister!'.

"The father came for her in the morning- only to find that she had been frozen solid. Her rudeness had angered the temperamental Morozko, and he had stolen her warmth for himself," Ivan finished with a lilt to his smile, like it was bordering childish pride for knowing all of the legend and a grim satisfaction that the rude child had got her just reward.

Eseld nodded thoughfully once the tale was over. "It sounds a bit like Arthur's friends," she mused. "The step-mother who cast the step-daughter aside sounds like The Banshee and that loud Italian woman. What was her name again, Arthur?"

"Aria," he supplied.

"Aria. Yes. The Banshee's less destructive, more annoying counterpart. The daughter herself reminds me of that Beilschmit boy. Wilhelm's oldest. What was his name?"

Arthur's voice caught in his throat. Samantha nervously looked down to the floor. Softly, Arthur said, "Brandon. His name was Brandon."

"Wasn't he the one that-"

"Yes, Mum."

Eseld curtly nodded. "Yes, well, I hear his brother ended up doing well. Gilbert's still the rampaging child who used to stick his grubby fingers all in my pies when he followed you home to tease you- or so I've been told."

"Mum!"

But it was too late. Michelle let out a snort, hands flying up to catch the laugh before it could come out also. Matthew's face brightened just a fraction, and the Braginski's stored the black mail in the back of their minds to use later in the future. "Uncle Farty's a loooooooooser!" Peter crowed.

"Shut it, you twit!" Arthur shot back, cheeks reddening by the second. In an attempt to reroute the conversation, the blonde man loudly cleared his throat and demanded, "Where is Francis at, anyway, Matthew?"

He blinked in surprise. Then, a grin unfurling across his face, Matthew replied, "He finally proposed to Therese. That's why Alfred came by, actually. He talked some sense into us. And… and afterwards, he said he and Ivan would walk to the mall and meet up with Katyusha and Natalya. I-I guess that's when…."

Ivan hummed low in affirmation. "He would not shut up about his silly fictitious superheroes."

"How bloody wonderful," Arthur deadpanned with a deep, long sigh. "My son gets stabbed because he wanted to be a super hero. I _knew _I shouldn't have let him watch that Justice League marathon when he was kid…."

"That's right; you should have been teaching him to toss a sprinkle of salt over his shoulder should he spill any!" Eseld exploded. "None of this would have happened if you'd told the boy how dangerous it is to leave spilled salt!"

Ivan gritted his teeth in anger. "Salt? SALT? How can you blame stupid _salt _when you were the one getting robbed? He saw you, wanted to save you, then got into all this trouble! You're the one who's at fault!"

"Didn't your father ever tell you to mind your manners, boy?"

He snapped. Matthew, Natalya, and Michelle, all at once, had to grab on to him before he could tackle Alfred's grandmother. Furious Russian spewed from his mouth that, if the widening of Natalya's navy eyes was any indication, had to be some pretty creative insults. Arthur quickly led his mother away, calling out that they were going to find some soda for the kids- "SODA? Vile stuff! By Jove, Arthur, they've completely Americanized you, haven't they! It's the bloody Banshee's fault, I know it is!"- and come back when things had calmed down.

Ivan went limp in their iron hold. The boy slid to the floor, hugging his knees into his chest. "_Ye nenavizhu yego… Ye nenavizhu yego."_

"You'll have to pardon her, Ivan," Samantha said after a long while. "She's got to be mental. That's the only excuse for her, I'm afraid."

"Grandmum is not crazy," Peter muttered.

At everyone's pointed look, Peter corrected himself. "Okay, so maybe she's a _little _crazy."

((((()))))

"Darn it, foul apes! Always catching me when Mr. Indiana-Bloody-Jones here can't jump across the stupid rocks!"

Alfred had the sinking suspicion that his mother had found his I-Pod and now failing miserably at playing Temple Run.

But… if she had his I-Pod, then they must have gotten his coat back. Alfred distinctly remember Ivan ripping it away from him and pushing it down on the gaping hole in his side that hurt almost as bad as being repeatedly run over with a monster truck with spiked wheels in the same spot hurt. Honestly, Alfred had been surprised that it had hurt so bad. Didn't something like that usually _burn _instead of Monster-Truck-Spikes? But whatever. He was seriously thirsty and craved a big mac like nobody's business.

"Can't you save that for later, Samantha? Honestly. Playing Temple Run at a bloody time like this."

Ah, so he was right. Also, that was his father's irritated voice, wasn't it? Alfred cracked a lazy smile. "You's so silly," he crooned.

"ALFRED!"

Blinking heavily for a minute, Alfred opened his eyes to an extremely blurry world of various blondes and a sobbing Katyusha off in the corner of the semi-circle. "Whooooooooa," he drawled, smile brightening. "Y-you guys're soooo whirly!"

"It's Lovino all over again," Alfred heard Natalya mutter.

Natalya! He loved her! He loved her sooooooo much! "N-N-Natty! Man, wuh-we should, like…." his voice trailed off into a giggle. "Haha, 'like'. I said 'like'. Haha, I suh… I sounded like Feliks!"

Samantha's face interrupted the sappy staredown with Natalya, who's pale face had curiously taken on a redder tint. Uh-oh. Natalya was mad at him. Now she was gonna stab him too. Alfred let out a groggy groan, interrupting Samantha's cry of joy "'M sorry, Natty. Uh… wait a minute. Wuh… what was I 'pologizing for again?"

"Your atrocious English-speaking skills," she offered. However, much to Alfred's surprise, it didn't sound as vicious as he had anticipated. That was a good sign.

He flopped his head over to Samantha. "Hello, Mom."

"You're an idiot and I am never letting you out of my sight again," she told him. Alfred also had expected that and the thirty so kisses that followed. Arthur had a little more dignity, coming sobbing and spitting out more threats than Alfred had ever heard in one sitting. In between the aforementioned threats and motherly hugs and kisses, Katyusha had also broke into the middle of things and now had his shoulder completely soaked. Michelle and Matthew, after more threats and tears, told him that his mission had indeed been successful, and that Francis and Therese were getting married at the end of summer.

"I think he said August because he's finally letting Mama go," Matthew said, smiling softly. "I guess all this mess made him realize it's better now."

Alfred's face brightened with pride. "You's-"

Arthur sighed. "It's _your,_ Alfred."

He continued anyway. "You's Mama said she missed you," Alfred beamed. "J-Jeanne saved me, Mattie. She's awesome. Haha, awesome! Nuh-now I sound like GIL! Gilbert's sooooo awesome, M-Mattie. Hey. Hey, Dad. I need to call Gilbert and tell h-him how awesome 'e is, okay? Whoooooo, did I tell you guys how seventies you guys are to me right now? Like, you're so _groooooovy_."

Matthew lightly snapped his fingers to get Alfred's heavily-drugged attention span back to him. "What do you mean, she saved you?"

"Jeanne told me the light was bad," he explained, fingering the funny bracelet on his wrist. "Woo, this thing is a sticker, ain't it. That's fancy. Hey, c-can I keep this, Dad? It's a STICKER!"

"You saw Jeanne," Matthew affirmed lowly. "You saw a woman who's been dead ten years… who told you the light was bad?"

Alfred hummed. "I thought it was pretty. Jeanne said it wuh… uh… oh. Pretty. Yeah. Jeanne said it was pretty, too. Natty, you're really pretty too, ya know? Pssst, don't tell Ivan, okay? But apparently the light was bad."

Ivan heard. And Ivan was severely annoyed. Matthew cast him a hopeless look, reminding him that Alfred was high out of his mind. Ivan let it slide for now.

"Oooooooh, and I forgot, Dad. Jeanne told me to tell you it wuhsn't yer fault. And you're my bestest friend ever, Mattie. You and Kiku are cool and I'm a jerk face for being mean to ya. Uh… what else. Um…. Oh! Oh. I love you, okay, Natty? And so does Toris but he's a loser-pants and I love you more. Uhh… it was me who stole your lunch in sixth grade, Ivan. I told Lovino he was a smelly-face in second grade. That's why he came home crying. Remember, Dad?" Alfred suddenly tiredly sighed, closing his eyes. "I'm a bad person. I severely suck as a best friend, Mattie. Sorry I'm such a loser."

Matthew bit his lip to keep from laughing. "You don't severely suck, Alfred."

"Yeah I do. I am the King of Loserville."

"If you were a bad person, you wouldn't have apologized for all that," Matthew argued. He and Alfred shared a smile. "And besides, I haven't been mad at you for a week. All that's over with. I don't think Kiku has been mad at you ever."

Alfred happily hummed. In less than five seconds, he was snoring.

Eseld, with wrinkles crinkling with her smile, hugged both Arthur and Peter. "See, everyone? All things happen for a reason, good or bad. Good things can come of bad."

"…Thank you, Mum."

"Also, your brothers and Aílin should be here sometime tomorrow."

"WHAT?"

The apocalypse was nigh.

**Translations**

**Cornish-**

_**Rudh- Red**_

**Russian-**

_**Ye nenavizhu yego- I hate him**_


	40. Chapter 40

**This chapter is dedicated to my friend Rosa, who kindly told me to go home, sleep, and finish this up back in May. Unfortunately, I got so sick I couldn't see straight, yet I had to go to school anyway for exams. As you all can see, I kinda didn't work on this according to her demands. Sorry, Rosa! XD**

**BUT IT'S FINISHED NOW! THE STORY! FINALLY! And it's all because of YOU, everyone who reviewed, alerted, favorited, and gave me inspiration through your stories. I'll list everyone at the end of the epilogue (which hopefully won't take a month to write like this chapter).**

**Chapter 40-**

"YOU'VE STAYED IN SODDING AMERICA TOO BLOODY LONG, YOU LOT OF WANKERS!"

Standing in the doorway, fists clenched, was a very angry Arthur Kirkland. And, after dealing with his family and Samantha when she randomly popped in to shower Alfred with video games and/or movies, who could blame him? Having one whiny Alfred was bad enough. Being surrounded by the entire Kirkland clan for an extended period?

Good Lord help him now.

Alfred and Achaius, the two "cripples" as they called themselves, quieted down their roar of laughter at the YouTube video they were currently watching on the couch. Ludo had always been a favorite of Alfred's, so of course he had to share Goodwill Hunting with his uncle. While Alfred groaned, everyone's favorite Ginger exasperatedly huffed, "Shut up, Artie, ye bug-eyed moose."

"Psst, it's bug-eyed _mooch._"

"Oh, innit now? My 'pologies. YE BUG-EYED MOOCH."

Aílin grabbed Arthur's shoulders before he could attack. The blonde Irish woman was much shorter and tinier than Arthur, but she had a potato garden back home in Eire. Potatoes were hard to hoe, as were the other vegetables that made up her favorite Irish Stew. Of course she had to have some strength to her. Scowling at her little brother snickering away in the living room, she forced Arthur to sit at the dining table. Aodhaigh, the youngest sibling from _Northern _Ireland, quietly calmed him down.

Running a hand through his graying hair, Ansel, the oldest of the Kirkland siblings, resumed shuffling his cards. "We're playing poker, Artie. Care to join us? Aldwin just betted one of his sheep."

"What am I supposed to do with a _sheep?_"

Alwin let loose a wicked grin. "Ah, but here's the thing, Artie. You're not going to win, just like Aodhaigh, Ansel, and Peter aren't. I'm keeping dear Molly AND I'm getting Peter's hat and their twenty bucks."

With that, Arthur merely rolled his eyes. It was a struggle to keep his temper in check, but Arthur figured having his siblings spending all day in his apartment wasn't _too _bad. They had a stay at a hotel in town, so there was no challenge of accommodating eight people in one tiny apartment. Aílin had not only been buying his groceries the past two weeks, but also served as the cook. Though she didn't nearly have the esteemed culinary talent Arthur had, he had to admit that she did make a decent scone. However, Arthur was truly grateful that Eseld had gone back to England. Without her rambling and fussing, everything was made much better.

Well… until a certain Frenchman came skipping over, spewing over-the-top French to his face and practically shoving a wedding invitation in his hands (how the heck had they decided on a date in just two weeks?). Also, Francis had the crazy idea that Arthur was going to suddenly remember how to play guitar and perform at the reception. For free, because that bloody frog could be as cheap as Roderich when he wanted.

Arthur was sure he was going to have a heart attack if he didn't lower his blood pressure. He sluggishly wilted into a chair and studied the cards he'd been given.

Not three minutes into their game (which Peter was unnervingly winning thus far) was there a swift, lazy knock at the door. Before Arthur could even make the two steps to open the door, Samantha Jones burst in, grinning widely. "Hello, Artie! I see you're having a party, and since the door was unlocked, I let myself in. Alfred! You'll never guess…."

Arthur suppressed the urge to rip out his hair and coolly sat back down. He picked up his cards before Peter could properly get a good peek, and sighed evenly. "I bet a package deal of both Alfred and Samantha, and I pray your cards are better than mine, Aldwin."

"MOM'S GOT TWO PET BEAGLES AND SHE SAYS I GET TO NAME THEM. CAN I SPEND THE WEEKEND WITH HER?" Alfred felt need to shout, although all was quiet, save his and Samantha's annoying chirps.

Arthur merely nodded, hoping that his eye really hadn't twitched like it felt it had. "Also, Aldwin," the blonde miserably sighed, "could you possibly spare some of your time to kill me?"

((((()))))

"I freaking hate freaking homework," Lovino growled under his breath. He _knew _he should have listened to Alice and not skipped the first week of school. Now he had all this annoying make-up crap to do. But he hated to think of how Lili was dealing with school. She'd missed nearly a month, and still skipped every so often when Tylenol wasn't keeping the headaches away.

Feli sat cross-legged at the end of his bed, which they'd unfortunately had to share. It was already well obvious that Aria was going to be staying in Heta. Finding a house large enough for his lovely mother was an issue, however. He didn't understand why she didn't just mooch off of Herakles. They were siblings, right? They were allowed to do stuff like invade each other's homes. After all, that's what Feliciano had done.

His brother now frowned a bit, leaning forward to examine his horrid math book. "It can't be that hard-" Feli suddenly cut himself short. Panic and horror and unbridled _terror _filled his little voice. "Wait a minute, _Fratello_, why are there letters with the numbers?"

"It's called Algebra, dipstick. It's still math."

"…What? That's not the kind of math I've done before! You can't add and subtract letters! That's impossible!"

The young Italian was now up on his feet, waving his arms. Pre-Feli, seeing a child act like so spastically would have alarmed Lovino. Post-Feli, Lovino had come to call this a normal daily occurrence. What exactly had screwed his life over so drastically, again? He felt his eyes instinctively narrow towards his book, mockingly glowing with intelligent Greek pride.

Lovino looked back to his brother and palmed himself. Of course Feliciano wouldn't have been falcon punched by algebra yet. He was ten and still naïve to the horrors of high school math subjects. Oh well. One more year until middle school. Lovino could just see Feli breaking down and crying the first night he'd have homework.

He couldn't help but groan aloud.

Before Feliciano could annoyingly ask "Huh? What'd you say, _Fratello_?" Aria burst into the room. A home finder book was in her hand, making Lovino internally sigh in relief. Maybe he could finally have his own bed again. Feli liked to hug in his sleep, and hug _tight. _However, Lovino wasn't going to let on that he was relieved. Antonio was always going off about being nice to Aria, and since Aria hated it when Lovino took Antonio's side…. "WHAT THE HECK ARE YOU DOING IN HERE? DON'T YOU KNOW HOW TO KNOCK? DON'T YOU KNOW _PRIVACY _IS?"

Aria waved his indignation away. Two weeks had gotten her used to his shouts and anger issues. "Cheer up, Lovi! Alice is here. She said she's come to help you with your homework. And judging by the amazingly bare sheet you have there, I assume it's well needed."

Lovino slammed his book closed and marched off, scowl etched into his face. "Stupid Aria. I'm not dense. It's just that Algebra is the _matemática del Diablo_."

"Oh, and when you come back, we're going to go look at this house I found, okay? I think you're really going to like it!" Aria called after him before he ducked out into the hall.

Lovino came face to face with a beaming Alice the second he knocked on their door. Lars, predictably, was seated on the couch smoking a cigarette-like object, completely ignoring the TV in favor of glaring at Lovino. Ever since he was a child, Lovino had always been afraid Lars was secretly the monster living under his bed or in his closet. With his freaky gravity-defying hair and wolfish eyes, his fears weren't _too _absurd. Now, after meeting real boogey-men like Daddy Braginski and the Douche-Bag Marco, Lars simply seemed like Lovino himself: dark and glary, but completely harmless.

Alice perkily pulled out a calculator. "Let's go, Lovi!"

He warily looked her over, finally breaking his epic stare-down with Lars. "Just what are you planning, and how much sugar have you been on in the last twenty-four hours?"

The blonde cracked a grin, though it seemed a little flat to Lovino. Her smiles were always rosy and made her adorable dimples show, but today…. He felt his mouth dip into a frown. However, Alice was already flipping through his book. "Geez, don't you ever clean this thing out, Lovi? You have English reports and everything in here." Alice shook her head. "But anyways. There's actually something I have to tell you. Math first or afterwards?"

Now he was a bit worried. Unlike _lots _of other people he knew, Alice usually didn't throw out terrible surprises. But after that kiss….

"Uh… th-the news. You're finally going to cut off Lars' two-feet-high cowlick?"

"Don't talk about my hair," Lars snapped. He sulkily straightened up his scarf and finally turned back to the TV. Both Alice and Lovino sighed to see he was still smoking Unidentifiable Substance. "And stop staring at me. Weird kids. When you move from Amsterdam, old habits stick."

"It's been eleven years, though," Alice halfheartedly argued. "And how in the world are you my legal guardian? I mean, seriously. How hasn't child services found out about you and tossed you in jail? Not to say I mind your habits," she quickly put in, remembering this guy was her brother and the one housing, feeding, and taking care of her.

Lars simply shrugged, eyes jadedly flickering back to the depressing news. He grunted at the sheer annoyance of it and started flipping through channels. After a while, he spoke up, not meeting their eyes. "I have my ways to avoid the people I need to avoid, as well as ways to see the people I need to see. I swear this stuff is legal, by the way. It's too cheap to be the stuff the government doesn't like."

Not finding something remotely interesting on TV, Lars rose with a huff, snuffing out his cigarette. "I'm going out. Keep the freaky Italian kid out of the fridge. The other one almost ate us out of house and home the other day."

"Want me to fix you dinner for later?" Alice called after him.

"Nah."

Once the door had shut behind him, Alice hummed and laced her fingers together, facing Lovino once more. "So, this great piece of news for you. Lars and I, as you know, technically aren't U.S. citizens, right? And we go back to the Netherlands every so many years to stay happy with the American government. We're leaving in February, and probably won't be coming back until summer. After next week, I probably won't be seeing you until Francis and Therese's wedding."

Lovino nodded slowly, his shoulders slumping. "And… you're going to get Lars a hair cut there, and send me the stunning pictures?"

"Perhaps," she giggled. But with a sigh, Alice sobered. Her grin sad, she brushed away a stray hair out of his face endearingly. "But Lovino, I'm doing you a favor, here. This year has been incredibly crappy for you, Alfred, Matthew- and _Lili._ Once I'm out of the country, you'll have to find a new algebra helper. What better way to kill two birds with one stone if you and… if you and Lili start… hanging out together?"

Alice stood up proudly, smushing him in a bear hug. "I love you lots, Lovi, but we both have to admit I'm more of a big sister here. No, worse than that, I'm like your _mother _sometimes. That can't be good. But Lili- she _needs _you to be there for her. You're her everything, Lovino, and I'm not going to steal you away from the girl you really love. By the way, Feli tells me you think I kissed you. I did not. It was aaaaaaaall in your crazy-high mind."

Before Alice could pull away, Lovino quickly wrapped his arms around her as well, pulling her face to his shoulder. He struggled to get the right words out, but again, Alice spoke first. He felt her smile. "You can't stop things from changing Lovino. Believe me, I know. Things happen that mess up everything you've ever known, and you can't make things go back to how they were. People always change and things out of your power to stop ruin everything. And… you may not always like it, but you have to find a way to live with it. Even if it means you have to give something up."

She laughed. "And Lovi, please, you're acting too much like your grandpa. I had no idea you were this Italian."

He flinched back. "Wait a minute, you knew _Nonno _all along? Why didn't you say something?"

"I didn't know Roma Vargas was your grandfather at the time," Alice shrugged, clasping her hands behind her back. "Last time Lars and I went to Amsterdam, we had to take two flights. The second one was in Boston."

"Roma just so happened to be wandering around the airport, flirting with random chicks like Francis," Lovino blandly guessed. He shook his head incredulously and fell back in his seat. "And people say I'm this guy's twin? That's just… that's just _insulting._"

"It's not that bad. He was stinking rich and really famous, right? I'd say that's pretty good for an old guy flirting with the flight attendants before he got on his flight to Italy."

Stinking rich and really famous still wasn't an excuse for the rest of Roma and his antics.

Alice suddenly hummed in recognition. "Oh! I just remembered! There was some other guy with him, too. He looked a lot like Ludwig, but with longer hair. I mean, this man looked as much like Ludwig as Roma looked like you. Maybe it was his grandpa! And since history repeats itself, like Mr. Karpusi used to say all the time, maybe that means-"

"I AM NEVER GOING TO BE FRIENDS WITH THAT STUPID GERMAN IDIOT!" Lovino roared, jumping up again with pure hatred in his eyes. He slammed his math book shut and marched to the door. "Thanks, Alice, but I've got to google voodoo techniques. I'm going to find a way to have Potato-Man jump off a cliff."

As he left, muttering death threats all the way, Alice again felt a small, sad smile flicker on her face.

"…I'm going to miss you, Lovi."

((((()))))

Matthew was impressed, for once. After looking for a house for two weeks, they'd finally found a nice place that Francis's teacher salary and Therese's waitress tips could afford. Everything about it was quaint, lovely, and fancy enough for a certain Frenchman's tastes. Squealing in excitement, Therese and Michelle ran inside, zooming past the two blondes. Francis sauntered in, face melding into one of disgust. "This _wallpaper! _Good Lord, it's walking back into the sixties! Ah, but the kitchen looks nice…."

Chuckling, Matthew wondered into one of the bedrooms. The room had a wonderful view of the maple trees lining the street, and the red and white striped wallpaper pretty much settled it. Matthew felt as though he had just walked into Canada, and he was in love. It was perfect! "I call this as my room, okay?" he quietly declared, poking his head into the living room where Therese was marveling over the old chandelier.

"Okay, honey. Sure," she absently agreed. "Fraaaaaaancis, would you just look at this? It's beautiful!"

Michelle ran past him from the second bedroom, her face positively shining. "Mom, the blue bedroom has the perfect spot for my fish tank! I can put it in front of the window and it'll reflect the water waves on my walls! And since Mattie's got the Canadian room-" Matthew smiled to see they shared the same thought- "I can have that one, right?"

"The 'Canadian Room'?" Francis curiously asked, finally leaving the kitchen of his dreams. "I suppose it has a view of the maple trees?"

"_And _it has red and white wallpaper," Matthew proudly proclaimed.

The next hour was spent with many _oohs _and _aahs_, as well as many horrific gasps at the horrendous shag carpeting and clashing wallpaper. Matthew had been afraid a few times that Francis was on the verge of fainting. However, with Therese's assurance that they'd paint over it, he thankfully remained conscious. At last, the four stood on the front porch, overlooking the quiet, peaceful neighborhood. The serene scene was momentarily interrupted as a red pickup truck passed by, containing a Spaniard and an Italian belting it out to _What About Love _by Meatloaf-

"…Was that just Antonio and Aria?" Francis asked in disbelief.

The four simultaneously craned their necks to see the truck pull into the driveway of the house just opposite to theirs. Francis openly gaped when he saw the _for sell _sign ostentatiously standing proud by the large house. He palmed himself when Antonio stepped out of his truck. "I knew it was too good to be true!" the Frenchman wailed, planting his face into Therese's shoulder. She patted him on the back, muttering something about the absurdity of this "It's such a small world!" business.

Michelle dejectedly sighed when she heard Lovino's first echoing complaint. "I suppose Arthur and Alfred will suddenly decide to move next, and end up in the house beside them?"

"Probably," Matthew muttered.

((((()))))

A week later, Matthew's fears were confirmed when Arthur snapped and started ranting about getting out of the small, enclosed space if his siblings were going to stay any longer. He had also ranted about their jobs, to which Ansel had replied, "Why do you think we keep playing poker like this? We're just as broke as you are, Mr. Lawyer."

However, Matthew thought with a small smile, placing Mr. Kumajinga (or was it Kumajiro? Matthew simply could not remember) carefully into a box, it was good to have the gang all together. Things would be too boring without Alfred and Lovino.

Matthew gave his now-empty room a final look over before closing the cardboard box on his last few possessions. He needed a new beginning just like everyone else.

Before Matthew closed the door for good, he could have sworn he saw a young blonde woman smile warmly at him in the corner of his eye. Matthew blinked uncertainly back, but saw nothing.

Francis, Therese and Michelle patiently stood in the living room waiting on him. A shy smile accompanied his quiet apology. This was that new beginning, he just knew. Francis was genuinely happy at long last, and Matthew's chest was lighter, as if a weight had just lifted off of him.

In a whisper no one heard, Matthew quietly said, "And finally… goodbye, _Maman. _I love you."

**Translations:**

**Spanish-**

_**matemática del Diablo- the Devil's math**_


	41. Epilogue

**Kyo- Yes, we're finally at the end! Thank you very much for all your kind words. And also, I know the situations I put these guys through were terrible. For the millionth time, I must say I am a sadist. That's the only explanation I have for the way I've treated these fine characters. Actually, I have a fic in progress called Illusion. It's AU as well, but definitely isn't as "normal" as Alleluia. But thank you so much for sticking with me so long!**

**Poetic Reviewer of Fine Fics- Wow, fancy name. XD My goodness. I'm glad I changed your opinion of the fandom. But there seriously are good fics for Hetalia. They're few and far between, but they're some of the best I've ever read. I have a bunch favorited, if you want to check some out. But again, **_**my goodness**_**. Thank you for all your awesome words! And, psh, it's not creepy. Just really well loved. I've actually… almost got chapter one of the sequel finished. I have no idea when it'll be published, but hopefully soon, since I'm really excited for it too. Shew. Long reply. But thank you bunches and bunches for reading!**

**This is full of spoilers for the sequel, but hopefully I've disguised them well enough that it's simply harmless detail or such. So please remember this?**

**AND YOUR THANK YOU. *waves arms spastically***

…**will come at the bottom. XD**

**Epilogue-**

**Seven Months Later**

"I don't think this plan of yours is going to work, _amigo_. I mean, I'm really grateful to you for trying, but-"

"Come on, Antonio. I must do something good for you and Arthur on my big day! You've spent half a year with Aria, and she still hasn't said yes, right? With some sappy lyrics Arthur and I wrote back in high school, I guarantee she'll fall in your arms and demand to never be let go."

"Francis, seriously."

"I _am _serious! Haven't you heard Arthur singing away since Alfred is at Samantha's this week? All of those songs were written about Samantha. If _he _could make _her _fall for him, The Wombats are definitely going to work their magic on Aria."

"…Well, if you say so. And Francis? I know you're nervous and all, but couldn't you have waited until a normal hour to call me about all this? It's five in the morning and I'm really tired…."

"Fine, fine. Go back to sleep. You'll be thanking me and my ingenious French charm tomorrow evening."

"_Buenas noches_, Francis. Get some sleep yourself, okay?"

"If you insist. Good night, Antonio."

With a sigh, Francis wilted back into his seat, dimly smirking out at the dark August sky. Everything was so quiet, so peaceful… and it honestly scared him. Since Matthew, Therese, and Michelle went to bed, Francis had stayed up and talked to all his old friends, telling them all his brilliant plans for the next day (or, technically, later today). Speaking to them, he'd been able to quell his fears for the time being. But he supposed enough was enough. Francis was a coward, but this was important. More important than making sure his and Therese's wedding also sparked love back in some certain people.

With a sigh, Francis straightened up once more, staring outside at the maples Matthew adored. "Well, this is it," he quietly said. Francis paused, feeling the thickness of the air lessen. A weary smile popped itself on his face. "It seems I'll be getting married later this afternoon, so I figured it's about time I talked to you. I know it's been quite a while, and you've still found a way to wriggle yourself back into our lives. You caused quite the stir with Alfred. Arthur doesn't believe him, but I do. Alfred was _dead_, but you brought him back. You're not a ghost, Jeanne. You're our guardian angel now. And… I suppose it's about time I thanked you."

He knew it was silly to pause, as if he were expecting Jeanne to reply. Francis chuckled at himself. All of this crazy. However, he had felt this was necessary, so here he was, speaking to thin air.

But if it was really just air, why did he feel so relieved?

"I don't know how you did it, Jeanne, but by tearing apart two best friends, you healed two families. Sometimes I wonder if you're the real reason why everyone has been so connected. It would be impossible for us to meet each other in the most absurd ways unless you had been the one to bring us together. Maybe you were the one to lead Lovino to Feliciano? Or perhaps that had been Roma. I won't argue over whose jurisdiction _that _was. But it was you, wasn't it? Trying to make us learn we need each other? That the past cannot tie us down the way we'd deluded ourselves into thinking it had?

"Oh, Jeanne…. We cannot thank you enough. Here I've gone and found someone else to love, and yet you still care. You really are a saint, aren't you?" Francis asked. He shook his head and stood. Almost, in the dim moon and star light, he could picture Jeanne standing before him, kindly looking at him as she always had. "I've mostly sat back while you've worked away. I watched the lives before me unravel and completely break in two, and I did nothing to help.

"But Matthew- he's just like you, you know? Even now he's been sure to check in on Lili, Feliks, and Ivan. All of them are doing wonderfully, as I'm sure you know. He's even asked me if he can go somewhere in the Caribbean with his friend Raymón to do mission work. And do you know what Matthew says he wants to do when he's older? Be a doctor. I know I couldn't have raised that wonderful little boy on my own. In fact… I think Arthur was really the one to raise him. He was always with Alfred and Arthur."

Francis never would have noticed it, but his voice was getting thick. His hands shook at his sides. But his gaze never broke with the starry sky. "Jeanne, I promise. From now on, I'm not going to idly stand by. When I say my vows tomorrow, I'm going to do more than just mean it. I'm going to live it. The same will go to everyone else I know. If Gilbert, say, has liver failure or something from all that beer he drinks, I'll take care of Ludwig and his dogs. And I'll send him flowers and chocolate. I've already made plans to get 'Tonio and Aria back together, and there's a slim chance I might be able to do the same for Arthur and Samantha. Though they're both too pigheaded to realize they need each other. It must be a British thing.

"But Jeanne… I've rambled long enough. Therese and Michelle will be up in an hour or two to head to town and get fixed up, and Matthew and I have all this mess with penguin suits to deal with. So-"

Stunned, Francis lightly touched his cheek, catching a tear. He looked down at his fingers and couldn't help but laugh. More tears came, forcing him to either fall to his knees or back in the armchair. "I-I had almost forgotten h-how much I miss you. I… I can't believe it's t-taken me so long to finally face you. Jeanne, I'm ashamed of m-myself. All these years, all I've thought about w-was your death. I didn't remember the good times, or the things y-you left behind for us. I tried to f-find you in so many other women, but it was impossible. It took me _this _long to…."

His voice hung in the air, floating off towards the window, and up towards the blurry stars Francis couldn't see anymore. "No one lives forever, and I should have known that," Francis whispered. "I've been looking for you in everything, but you're not here anymore. What was I thinking, anyway? You never would have wanted me to pine after you. That's why I met Therese, right? Again… looking out for even the worst of us.

"I love you, Jeanne. Therese can't replace you, but this time, I don't want her to. I want to let you go, so you can tend to more important things instead of worrying over me. Believe me, Jeanne. I've haven't reached it yet, but I'm sure heaven is far better than hanging around here, worrying over everyone. We've learned our lesson. The next time something happens to shake and shatter us, we'll be able to pick ourselves back up. You can rest at ease."

A moment longer, and the room felt empty once more. Francis snapped his head up, his eyes locking onto the moon. A cloud had found its way across it, drenching the room in darkness. Seconds later, it was gone.

Francis felt the hole in his heart tug together. It was finally getting patched up, but that didn't mean it wasn't painful. He dropped his face in his hands, shoulders shaking. "I'm sorry, I miss you, I _miss you…_."

((((()))))

"This thing is itchy. Why couldn't we have just worn nice pants and a dress shirt, dude?" Alfred complained, frowning disdainfully in the hallway mirror at the vest he'd been forced to wear. "When I get married, we're dressing in tee-shirts and Bermuda shorts."

Matthew chuckled and shook his head, fixing his bowtie in the mirror. Francis had already gotten a hold of his hair, making Matthew a clone of himself with glasses. Sometimes Matthew just couldn't believe him. Even now, Francis was running all over the chapel, screeching that everything had to be absolutely perfect. Therese wasn't nearly as frazzled as him, what little Matthew had seen of her. She had just left to get dressed.

Alfred miserably groaned and fell back against the wall, causing Kiku, hanging out with them while Yao fussed and took charge in the reception room, to slide out of the way. "Seriously. Why do people make such a big deal about weddings anyway? It's just a pretty lady walking down an aisle, a few sappy promises, and a kiss."

"But Alfred, it's mostly for the girls. Xiao Mei used to play wedding all the time when she was younger," Kiku quietly explained. "Did you know many of our wedding traditions originated with the Romans?"

"That's very interesting," Alfred blandly assured him.

Kiku sighed. "And that was sarcasm."

"You're both forgetting the big party afterwards," Matthew muttered, scowling at the single strand of hair that refused to fall into place. With a sigh, he turned to face his two friends. "I'm going to attempt to calm Papa down and get everyone into position. Could you two _please _make sure Gilbert still has clothes on? I heard him tell Papa this morning that he was going to go naked."

"Ew, I don't want to see a naked Gil!" Alfred burst. "My brain will melt and my eyes will fall out!" Kiku merely gaped, his brain already imploded.

"Neither does everyone else. Ludwig is helping with the reception, so please?"

Matthew sighed in relief as his Alfred slumped outside, a speechless and quite horrified Kiku trailing after him. He followed suit and politely began herding the congregating people to their respective seats.

Everything had come out so nicely in the white church, as far as Matthew could see. Blue and red carnations were tied together on the ends of each pew, and red rose petals already lined the aisle since they were lacking a proper flower girl. Half of Therese's family was already seated on the left side of the church, and various Heta High teachers sat on the right. Francis hadn't invited much family because, in his words, "The excessive French flair of my relatives would take away from the moment. Can't have everyone looking at my beautiful Aunt Clarisse when they're supposed to be admiring Therese."

The setting sun shown through the intricate stained glass windows, reflecting a rainbow onto the aisle. Every few feet was showered with a myriad of exquisite colors. Matthew found it hilarious, the colors of the French flag and the Seychellois flag mixing so well like this.

With a relieved sigh, Matthew found Francis in the corner of the chapel by the grand piano, looking over Roderich's piano notes. He could see Roderich was explaining his shortened version of _I'd Do Anything For Love_, but Francis didn't understand a word of his music talk, and was humming in agreement when prompted to do so.

"Finally, Papa! I sent Alfred and Kiku after Gilbert."

Francis gave him a grateful smile. "Thank you, Matthew. I just saw Michelle, and she said Therese is almost ready. It'll be starting soon. Are you okay?"

Matthew nodded, but said, "I don't think I'm the one who needs the pep talk, Papa. Are you sure _you're _okay? You were about to have a panic attack during breakfast."

Francis rolled his eyes and nodded his okay to Roderich, waiting patiently to see if his changes were satisfactory for the finicky Frenchman. "I'm fine. Where is Arthur at? He's the best man, and if he's late for whatever stupid reason-"

"-You're not okay, Papa," Matthew interrupted, grabbing his shoulders. When he had Francis's attention, he said, "Now repeat after me: _Matthew will handle it._ And also, take some deep breaths. Calm down. If you must, go get some cake. I think I remember Gilbert telling me Ludwig made a German chocolate cake for you two as a wedding gift."

"Alright, alright," Francis acquiesced, visibly wilting in relief when Arthur popped up in the back of the chapel, bickering with Samantha- something along the lines of "Those stupid dogs of yours can't just jump up on Alfred! He's not even close to be any better yet! And where on earth did he go, now? I told him he needs to be sitting down so-" and "Betsy and Ross are not stupid dogs! And how should I know where Alfred is? You're the one who dropped him off with Francis!".

"Thank goodness! Gilbert, I'm so proud of you, keeping yourself decent!" Francis gushed, running to his friend before he could be dragged into their argument.

"But it's so unawesome this way! Unawesome Alfred over here-"

"Hey, I'm just following Mattie's orders, alright? And besides, I couldn't let you melt the brains of everyone present! What kind of hero would I be if I-"

"Guys, she's ready!" Michelle beamed from the back of the church.

Francis went white, Gilbert and Alfred scrambled to get into position, and Kiku ran back to the reception to relay the message. While everyone finally sat down, Matthew pushed Francis up to the front and went to stand in line between Arthur and Alfred. The blonde boy put on the most reassuring smile he could muster. "It's okay, Papa. You can do this. Roderich, you can start the music!"

Everything shushed into a sacred silence as the doors at the back of the church opened wide to welcome in Michelle, leading in the other bridesmaids. Each wore a deep blue dress, the same color of the dress Michelle had worn when they all met each other. Matthew smiled at the crazy memory. Roderich's song calmed from its grand beginning into a much softer, sweeter tune.

Therese appeared in the doorway after the bridesmaids' procession, hanging to her father's arm. She ignored the collective gasps at her beautiful dress and kept her gaze and smile locked onto Francis. The gown was a simple white dress decorated with ivory sparkles on the neckline. A silver diamond necklace hung round her neck, matching the dangling earrings she wore. Her dark hair had been twisted up into a tight bun, where the veil was draped in front of her. The bouquet in her hand was made up of the same blue and red carnations all around, intertwined with white and red roses.

She only took her eyes off of Francis when her father let go of her arm. After Michelle had been given the bouquet, she and Francis took each others' hands and looked to the priest. Despite the teary vows and the shaking hands to slide on each ring, neither could wipe the smile off their face.

When at last the kiss came, the audience erupted into applause. Two sharp whistles from Gilbert and Antonio overpowered them all. Francis laughed out a "Shut up, you two!" over his shoulder. He took Therese back in his arms and kissed her once more, just for good measure.

Sure enough, just as Matthew had earlier said, everyone piled themselves into the party after a flattering comment to Therese on her dress and a string of pictures, taken by both the photographer they had hired and Feliks. The blonde hadn't been invited (Francis and Therese down-right _refused_ after hearing exactly what he had done during Aria's wedding), but had somehow snuck in anyway. Tavian was instantly called, and, after getting their pieces of cake, drove off. Matthew wasn't sure if it was a good or bad thing that Feliks was staying with his Aunt and Uncle Lupei until he was sure his MPD was completely gone.

Matthew stood at one of the back tables where Alfred, Ludwig, Heilrich, and Feliciano sat, sighing as Therese completely smushed her cake into Francis's face. Sure, Francis was laughing now, but Matthew knew he would be in tears over his tuxedo as soon as Therese wasn't looking.

Once food had been served and a loud chatter had took over the room, Alfred craned his neck to look over the crowd. "Hey, Feli, where's Lovino at?"

Feli paused in his grand tale (which neither Ludwig nor Heilrich were fully able to understand because of Feli's rapid-fire sentences) and pointed over to another table. "He's over there with Lili! He told me to distract Vash while he and Lili found someplace to sit. Vash should still be looking for them… aha! Yep. It looks like he's threatening _Papà_ right now."

Alfred blinked. "Uh… and you aren't concerned that Vash is actually going to hurt Antonio?"

"Nope. I think he'll be okay. Anyway, back to my story! So, here Lovi and I were, when suddenly this HUUUUUUUGE squirrel jumps out of NOWHERE and…."

Matthew chuckled at the entire spectacle, looking back to the food table, where Yao and Ivan were still handing out cake. Roderich had already eaten half of it on his own. Matthew had watched him send Heilrich, Elizabeta, and Feliciano to "get seconds" and bring it to him. But it was crazy, watching Ivan and Yao laugh and… actually be good friends. How had that happened again? Matthew must have missed that one.

An Indian man Matthew had never seen before the wedding was fixing more salad with Yao's sister, Tohko. Earlier, when Matthew had been in line, he had introduced himself as Deshad Hiranandani, future American superstar and actor for Red Flower productions. Apparently he had met Gilbert at Red Flower, became instant best friends with him, and ended up being enlisted as a caterer with Ivan and the Asians.

For some reason, every time Ivan had to pass by Deshad, he would scowl. Deshad would in each instant reply, "For the last time, kid, I _swear _I'm not going to take your dog."

Apparently Matthew had missed that too.

A frustrated cry interrupted his thoughts. Everyone turned to stare apprehensively at Vash, who had finally given up on Antonio. Out of the corner of his eye, Matthew caught sight of Lovino pecking a kiss on Lili's cheek before sliding to the floor and out of sight. He popped up at their table in mere seconds. "I was here _the entire time_," he quickly said, sitting next to Feliciano and casting his brother's German friends the darkest glare he could muster while being afraid for his life.

Feliciano threw himself at his brother, latching onto his arm. "Yay! I knew you wouldn't get brutally slaughtered by Mr. Zwingli! Oh, and that reminds me! I never said hi to Lili! _CIAO_, LILI!"

The girl, at hearing her name yelled over top the noise, turned. Lili hadn't gotten much bigger since her time in the hospital, but there was color to her cheeks and the headscarf was gone- hopefully for good. Her new short hair barely reached her chin, making her look extraordinarily like a younger Vash wearing a violet dress. However, she wore a ribbon tied to her hair to prove she was indeed a girl. With a sweet smile, she waved happily at Feliciano.

"YOU IDIOT!" Lovi yelled, grabbing at his hair under the black fedora he wore. Feliciano was completely unfazed, turning his bright grin on him once more. "NOW VASH KNOWS WHERE I'M AT!"

"Better get to hiding, dude," Alfred sagely advised. Lovino heeded his words, high-tailing it out of the reception. At the sheer speed he had run away, Alfred gave a low whistle. "Dude. Maybe he _could _be Michael Phelps if Vash was after him. And speaking of dangerously over-protective wack-jobs, I need to ask Ivan where Natalya is. By the way, Mattie, I'm pretty sure Francis is trying to get my dad drunk."

Matthew's happy demeanor instantly fell. "What?" he asked eloquently. Looking in the direction of Alfred's point.

Sure enough, there sat a dazed-looking Arthur across the room. Francis had his arm slung over his shoulders, a glass of red wine in the other hand. Matthew couldn't tell what he was saying from this distance, but whatever it was, it appeared to be peaking Arthur's interest.

Matthew moaned into his hands.

This was going to be an interesting night.

((((()))))

Honestly, Matthew hadn't been too worried about his father's devious plan. Sure, Arthur was almost dead drunk (Matthew could hear him shouting "I'M FROM THE BLOODY UNITED KINGDOM AND I CAN HOLD MY LIQUOR BETTER THAN ANY OF YOU UGLY SODS!"), but he was sitting with Samantha and Aria. Hopefully they wouldn't let him get into too much trouble.

However, he couldn't help but start worrying again when Francis popped up at Arthur's side once more.

Eyes wide in fear, Matthew instantly set off.

No one at his table noticed him leave, anyway. Alfred had long ago disappeared, searching for Natalya. By the way Ivan had spent the last two hours checking under the tables for his sister, Matthew and the others assumed Alfred had found her. Meanwhile, Kiku had finally escaped his siblings and wandered over, bearing a deck of cards he had gotten off of Yong Soo. He, Ludwig, Heilrich, and Feliciano were now in the middle of a rousing game of BS. However, Feli freaked out whenever he didn't have the right card, and thus was losing epically.

Matthew hadn't seen Michelle and Therese in hours. Until this mess with Arthur, he hadn't seen much of Francis, either. But now that everyone besides Francis and Therese's closest friends were leaving, Matthew could see where everyone was.

He also got a nice view of the makeshift stage set up, microphone and electric guitar in position. Matthew hurried pace, weaving his way through the mass of people. He passed by Antonio and Aria, both sounding just as apprehensive about a drunk Arthur as Matthew, and Vash, whom Matthew quickly skirted around.

"Thank you, _mon ami! _Now remember, this is high school graduation, Arthur. We're leaving this horrid place and never coming back, so you can go as crazy as you like."

"Sod off, Francis. Where's my guitar? And hey, where's Brandon?He's the bloody drummer. Roderich! Get up here on the keyboard! How the heck am I supposed to play with no band, Francis?"

Before Francis could reply, Matthew tugged on his sleeve. "What are you _doing?_"

The blonde laughed maniacally, setting Arthur off to the stage. "Keeping a promise!" he happily cried. "Unfortunately, I had to get Arthur a little drunk before he would sing any American songs. But that won't be a problem. Samantha said she would drive him home."

"S-sing? _Arthur _was in a _band?_"

The sound of a piano cut them both off. With another evil cackle, Francis disappeared into the sparse crowd to find Antonio and Aria. "Go ahead and find Alfred so he can enjoy the show too, Matthew," Samantha told him, leaning her chin in her palms. A light smirk tugged on her lips. "Journey. Wonderful way to start off a _real _party."

Matthew sighed. However, when Arthur started to sing, and actually sing _well_ despite being drunk, he wryly smiled. Maybe Francis was right- maybe some good might actually come of this. Heeding Samantha's advice, he left in search of Alfred.

It only took a few minutes of looking before Matthew found them outside, sitting on the church steps. Alfred was lightly snoring, his head on Natalya's lap. The blonde girl whipped her head around with a glare, but, upon seeing it was just Matthew, resumed combing Alfred's hair. Matthew sat beside her. "Didn't like the party?"

"I hate parties," she answered, disdainfully tugging at the fancy, navy dress she wore. Matthew had a feeling the dress had been Katyusha's idea. Natalya's hair had earlier been braided, but now it fell straight down her back. The blonde slightly frowned. "Stupid Alfred took too long to find me. How long has it been, Matthew? It's been dark for a while now."

"About two hours. Ivan's tearing the place apart looking for you."

A ghost of a grin popped up on Natalya's face. She sweetly cupped Alfred's face and dipped down to give him a kiss on his forehead. Matthew gulped at the threat in her eyes. He quickly swore he'd never tell a soul. Natalya peered back through the darkness, her face thoughtful. "What," she slowly, carefully began, "do you think happened to Ivan? When he came back home, he… his breath smelled of vodka, like our father's had. Everything about him seemed so much angrier, too. I'm afraid for him. Ivan has changed so much."

"I'm afraid too," Matthew quietly said, looking down at the stone steps. He could faintly hear Arthur's impressive guitar solo. The boy frowned. "I think Ivan may have made a few bad choices. Any of us would have. But… he's gotten better since he started working at Red Flower, right? I've seen him smile a lot more, like he used to."

Natalya studied his face a moment before saying, "You've changed too. You're…. Actually, I'm not sure what you are now. But you're different from when I last saw you."

Matthew blinked. "Uh… I'm sorry?"

"That was a compliment. Don't apologize."

"Right. Thank you, Natalya."

The girl silently shook Alfred's shoulder. "Wake up, idiot. We've been out here for two hours. Matthew came looking for you, and you've made _Brat _worried for me."

Blinking heavily, Alfred let out a massive yawn. "Wh-whut?" he thickly asked, rubbing his eyes. "Whoa. Whoa, hey, it's dark." Alfred sat up with a wince, looking down at his watch. "Dude, it's almost eleven o'clock! Dad's going to kill me-"

"Arthur is drunk and singing to… Tom Petty, I think?" Matthew said, straining to hear. He nodded. "Yes, that's most definitely Tom Petty. Anyway, Samantha was asking where you were and Ivan is about to flip the place upside down, looking for Natalya."

A slight blush popped up on Alfred's face. "Oh. Well then. Uh, sorry for, uh, falling asleep, Natalya."

She scowled down at her dress. "Ugh. It's all wrinkled now. _Sestra _made me iron this for an hour, I'll have you know." With a tight sigh, she grabbed Alfred and Matthew's wrists and pulled them along. "Making Ivan worried like that…. You two are insufferable."

Over Natalya's head, Alfred winked to Matthew and mouthed, "She's totally madly in love with me, dude."

Matthew had another feeling that Natalya had only _barely _refrained herself from elbowing him.

((((()))))

All of Kiku's siblings, Ivan, and Michelle now sat crowded around Matthew's table. It was reaching two o'clock in the morning, and yawns were in great abundance for the younger kids. Yong Soo and Feliciano were already asleep. Heilrich looked as if he could fall over and pass out too, but forced himself to stay awake for appearances. He refused to be fanned over like Feli and Yong Soo.

Arthur had long ago passed out on stage, and was now replaced by Antonio and Aria, singing together to some sappy Meatloaf love song. The mere sight of it had sickened Lovino, who had returned to the reception only after seeing Vash and Lili were already gone.

Everyone looked up as Antonio and Aria carried the last note, neither's voice fading or cracking and the sheer length. "That was awesome," Alfred said as soon as the song ended. All the kids' eyes went wide in terror when Antonio and Aria instantly had their lips together.

A string of Spanish and Italian curses spewed from Lovino's mouth.

Francis and Gilbert's cheers were nearly deafening. "Yes!" they heard Gilbert shout. "It worked, Frenchie! IT WORKED! I KNEW SOME OF MY AWESOME HAD RUBBED OFF ON YOU!"

Antonio and Aria hopped off the stage laughing. Francis was shoved up next. After a quick glare to Antonio and Gilbert, he looked to Therese. "Dedicated to you, _mon amour._"

"He had this planned," Matthew explained. "He made me find the karaoke version for the song."

As soon as Roderich had pushed play, Alfred punched the air. "YEAH! I love this song! The Cab ROCKS!"

Taking her completely by surprise, Alfred grabbed Natalya's hand. "Come on, Natty! This is the greatest song ever! We gotta go dance! Besides, this is a song about LIVING! We survived all this crap, so I say we deserve this!"

Natalya cast the table a worried glance, but no one looked ready to laugh at her. In fact, they were all standing too. Ivan was first to calmly walk out, taking Natalya's other hand. "For once, the stupid American is right," he smiled at his stunned sister.

Heilrich woke up Feliciano and explained the situation. The Italian instantly ran off, calling for Heilrich and Lovi to hurry. Tao twirled Michelle around, fanning her dress out in a rippling blue, just the right shade to look exactly like the ocean. Alfred was aware he still couldn't exactly dance, per se, so he and Natalya merely hugged and laughed at the absurdity of everyone's cheering.

"Aw, _Fratello_, of course you have to dance, too!" Feliciano burst, tugging on Lovino's arm. "Just pretend Lili is still here!" Without giving him time to react, Feliciano grabbed his hands and pulled him over to everyone else.

Deshad came sliding in with Gilbert, both whooping in manic glee. "Tohko! Can we shoot our next movie on-site here? This town is awesome!"

"Heck yeah, we're awesome!" Gilbert agreed, slapping the kid a high-five.

With everyone up and moving (besides Arthur, who was still asleep, and Samantha, sitting by him. She was also cheering on Deshad and Gilbert, showing off their awesome dance skills), the entire air was lifted to an ecstatic one. No one dared stop laughing and dancing, even after the song ended and Francis joined the crowd, spinning around with Therese. The bad things of the past couldn't be farther from their minds as their joy made its own kind of music.

'_Cause no one, no one lives forever  
><em>_But we will be remembered  
><em>_For what we do right now._

_I'm living louder,  
><em>_And dreaming longer tonight.  
><em>_Baby, I'm fighting harder  
><em>_And loving stronger tonight._

'_Cause we're all just kids  
><em>_Who grew up way too fast.  
><em>_Yeah, the good die young,  
><em>_But the great will always last._

On into the night they reveled in their lives, celebrating the start of a brighter future.

**Officially OVER! *briefly passes out in joy and shock***

**I WAS going to type up everyone who alerted, favorited, and/or reviewed, but dear Lord, guys. That would have taken forever. *squees one final time before regaining composure* So I know I've thanked you all over and over, but here's one more:**

**Thank you to everyone who read all the way through, putting up with my spastic updating and numerous typos. Also a huge thank you to everyone who corrected my translations and gave me other info. Just... just...! *explodes***

**Chapter one of the sequel (which is to be called _Memoire_) is almost finished. However, I'm not sure when I'll publish it, since I'm still iffy on a lot of details. Once I properly have everything planned I'll start on that. Also as promised, I'll post one of the original chapters next to let you all have a look at that. Then hopefully we'll start on some omakes. 8D**

**So, enough of my ramblings. You all have lives. I obviously do not. I hope everyone has a Prussia-awesome summer!**

**ALGHADGKJ THANK YOU EVERYONE!**


	42. Original Preview

**Okay! So, as promised, here is a chapter from the original. I picked this chapter because it shows a lot of the new characters' personalities, and also because it doesn't spoil a part I really changed from the fanfic: in the original, Lovino and Feli's grandpa **_**lives.**_

**So. I hope everyone enjoys this, and again has an amazing summer!**

Alfred had finished his homework in silence, skipped football practice, and actually ate all of his vegetables for the next few days.

Needless to say, Edward was worried.

Had he… somehow found out about Samantha? Even worse, was he mad at Edward for not telling him? But Alfred merely said he was tired when Edward asked if anything was wrong. Halley had been the same that first day, denying dinner in favor of falling asleep on Alfred's bed until school was over and Louis came home. The poor girl had really been hit hard with Lily's incident.

Maybe Alfred was so… so different because of Halley? They had practically been brother and sister growing up; always together, sharing everything without the qualms of a normal child and his toys. Antimo had easily integrated into their kinship, but he had never been as close to them as Alfred and Halley. So Edward figured it wasn't that unusual that Alfred would be upset that Halley still felt terrible about what had happened to Lily. According to what Alfred had told him, Lily had neglected to mention she was sick, or else he and the others would have helped her more.

Instead of sticking around for dinner that Saturday afternoon, Alfred had left to hang around Halley and Louis, leaving Edward alone again.

Why was he so distant of late? Alfred used to always tell Edward everything- about his and Halley's escapades with Emery and Antimo, about how he cut Elicia Amaranth's hair in kindergarten (he'd come home in tears that day because she had then chopped off a strand of his hair for revenge), and how he and Emery were the best football players ever. What happened to that sweet little boy who refused to leave his side?

He grew up.

Edward sighed and set to cleaning up the kitchen, deciding to leave the matter alone for now. Once their shock over Lily died down, Alfred and Halley would no doubt return to normal.

"Anna! Can you believe we're all getting a room together? All four of us! This is going to be GREAT!"

"Wonderful. Stuck in a cramped, claustrophobic space with my annoying big sister."

"That's not nice to say about Raisa! That reminds me, Fray, you're gonna have to nail up a curtain or something. This place only came with two bedrooms."

"Can't I have the couch? Raisa snores!"

"I don't snore."

"Yes you do," her three siblings intoned.

Edward poked his head outside, eyes growing wide at seeing three girls of varying age, all three of them looking in their mid- and early-twenties. Amidst them stood a sixteen-year-old boy, looking miserable as he argued with his sisters. A small black terrier patiently sat at their feet. The siblings must have smuggled the dog in somehow- Edward knew that if the landlord heard about it, he'd have them kicked out in an instant. Maybe they would be able to keep the dog hidden with all the noise they made, overpowering the its quiet bark.

The boy turned around in surprise when the dog gave a soft yip and pawed at his pants. A smile spread out on his face upon seeing Edward. "Hello, there!" he cheerfully said, walking over to shake hands. The others paused their bickering and teasing long enough to notice they weren't alone any longer. "I'm Fray Larson. My sisters and I just moved in."

Fray was a gangly young man with kind gray eyes. His dark brown hair was certainly more well-kept than most boys' his age. It must have come from spending so much time with his sisters. He wore many colorful bands around his wrist, all having something like "Asheville High Lymphoma Awareness Week, 2008" written on them. Each had a different school name.

"Oh. It's nice to meet you all. I'm Edward Liore. I, um, heard all four of you are staying together?"

A frown came to Fray's face. "Yeah. Well, we're used to it, at least."

The eldest girl grinned and threw her arm around her other older-looking sister. "Yep! We're best buddies forever! Always been together!"

Fray pointed back to her. "She's the oldest, Iris. The one beside her is Raisa. Then there's Anna in the middle and me. The dog is, um, Minny. You… you won't tell on us for keeping him, will you?"

With the look Fray gave him, his lip barely puckered out and gray eyes on the edge of pathetic tears, Edward had to shake his head. "I don't mind him at all," he assured the young brunette.

Fray's happy smile came back, bringing with it a smile on Edward's face. "Great! Thank you so much! See, Raisa gave him to me as a birthday present a few years ago, and he's just as much family to us as each other. I don't know what I'd do without him!"

Raisa offered him a grin- if one could call it that. Her grin was more of the corners of her rosy lips barely turning up a fraction. The bashful expression looked completely foreign accompanying a woman as stout as her. "You're welcome, Fray."

Edward blinked at the girl's kind voice accompanying her tall stature, adding more shock. "W-well, down the hall lives Jack Harper. I would advise you not to get on his bad side in the morning. Beside you lives Carlos Montoya and his son Antimo, but they're currently away for a trip to Boston. Between them and my home is Louis Barlow and his daughter Halley. My boy's with them at the moment- Alfred Liore."

"Alfred Liore?" Iris suddenly perked up at the name. She crossed his arms over Anna's head and dropped her chin. "We heard about him when we signed up Fray at the high school. He's the football player who ran that sick chick across the school to the nurse, right?"

"That's Alfred."

"Pretty cool kid," Iris decided, grinning widely. Anna ducked suddenly, making Iris stumble forward upon having lost her leaning post. In one swift moment, Iris's sister elbowed her in the ribs. "Ow, Anna!"

She narrowed her eyes and huffily said, "Stop using me as an arm rest!"

They were certainly going to prove to be entertainment for their floor- that is, unless they killed each other first. "Well. If you ever need anything, you can call on me, alright?" Edward conceded with a slightly forced smile.

"Thanks, Edward!" Iris burst, instantly turning back to their new room. "Okay, guys, let's see our new place!" She whooped and rushed inside, heading straight for one of the bedrooms. "I CALL THE QUEEN!"

Fray quickly apologized for his sister, then ran in with the rest of his siblings. Their bickering over who slept where was louder than one of Antimo's outbursts.

When Jack emerged from his apartment, splattered in paint and reeking of waxy pastel, Edward merely nodded grimly. The blonde man cocked an eyebrow at his new neighbors, muttering under his breath about young loud-mouth Spaniards. He escaped back into his apartment just as quickly as he had arrived, leaving Edward with a wry smile on his face.

((((()))))

"So you're on your way to Massachusetts?" Lily asked in surprise into her cell phone. Cecil had snuck it in for her so she could call her friends. Of course, he wasn't very happy to learn she had wanted to call a boy- a boy who had a reputation that didn't exactly reach up to the chief of police's standards. But Cecil figured that since Lily was doing considerably better than two days ago, he would allow her one phone call to this Antimo Montoya.

"Yeah, unless _Papá _gets us lost again. I swear, it's like he's never used a GPS before."

"I haven't!"

"Why didn't you tell me that _before _we spent three hours lost in Pennsylvania?" the boy's voice shouted across the phone. Cecil cocked an eyebrow at the buzz.

"But it was an adventure, Anti! Didn't you like seeing Gettysburg?"

Lily chuckled at the father and son. Cecil smiled at hearing her twinkling laugh. She was still pale and complained her chest hurt every so often, but it was wonderful to hear her laugh. There was nothing more Cecil could wish for than for her to be happy.

A knock sounded at the door and Lily quickly said goodbye, handing her phone back to Cecil to keep in his pocket. Lily's mother and another doctor walked in.

The report.

The smile Lily had donned while talking to Antimo was gone now, her lips slightly trembling in fear of what she'd be told. Yvonne Zwingli joined Cecil at Lily's side, taking her daughter's hand.

"We discovered a mass in your lungs that we hadn't noticed before. We'll have to have immediate surgery by the end of the week to remove the tumor. The blood clot that caused your… episode came from the tumor. After we remove it, you'll have to go through chemotherapy for a few months to assure it won't come back. With all luck, the clot will go away and you won't have to stay on blood thinners."

"But it's still stage one, right?" Cecil asked, his worry well-masked with years of police experience. No one had a better poker face than Cecil Zwingli. "After this, she'll get better?"

The doctor hesitated a moment, but then nodded. "Yes. She should be fine."

Should be. Two words one never wanted to hear in a hospital.

The doctor quietly made his leave.

Lily leaned into Cecil's shoulder, quiet tears wetting his shirt. Cecil didn't care, wrapping his arms around her thin frame. He couldn't lose her- he couldn't lose his baby girl.

"It'll be alright," Cecil promised.

Yvonne Zwingli clutched the report in her hands, and quietly left the room, dabbing at her tears. It wasn't stage one anymore. It was worse- considerably worse.

((((()))))

"U-um, Fai?"

Fai looked up from his book to see Huang, nervously holding his stack of books from school. Fai smiled and nodded to his unasked question. "I'll help you with your homework."

"Thank you!" he burst, pulling over a chair to the booth. It was a slow day at Red Flower, so Fai was able to steal a table for himself. His backpack occupied the other side of the booth, nearly taking up all the room. "Okay, so I have no idea what this whole math thing is about. Algebra is starting to rot my brain, Fai."

"Swallowing your pride to ask for homework help?" Song smirked, sliding over. "I'll have you know that Mei told me that Huang slept through math today. That's why he needs help."

"Nuh-uh!" Huang burst indignantly, jumping out of his seat. "Mei's just saying that because I didn't let her cheat off of my book report for Around the World in Eighty Days!"

"The one that you made me write for you?"

"There's no way I would cheat off of you!"

"You cheat off of me all the time!"

Fai sighed, turning back to his book. Once his siblings got into an argument, it would be a good twenty minutes before they regained rationality. But as the minutes dragged on, and Huang and Song continued to argue back and forth, it didn't seem like they would be stopping anytime soon without Mei's intervention. And, just his luck, Mei had just entered the empty dining area.

"Could you two be any louder?" Mei sighed, walking to meet her siblings. Song and Huang rounded on her, planning on dragging her into their petty argument. "Huang slept through class because he stayed up watching videos on the internet. I didn't want to copy the paper; I just wanted to know how to spell the author's name. You didn't write his report for him, because I distinctly remember you fussing at Huang to shut his face while you did the dishes, because you had a bad day at school or something. Lastly, Dad said for you two to pipe down before he kicked you out in the parking lot."

"Thank you," Fai gratefully smiled to his younger sister. Mei offered him a smile and a curtsy in return before dragging Song back to the kitchens. Huang let out an angry huff and sat down across from Fai, muttering under his breath about traitorous twins while he retrieved his math work.

Fai suddenly remembered he was supposed to call Alfred. He quickly marked his place with a napkin and whipped out his cell phone. Alfred answered quickly, no doubt with a smile. "FAI!"

"Ah, h-hello, Alfred," he stuttered, still unused to Alfred shouting his name every time he saw or talked to the Asian. "So, about this tutoring…. I've talked with a few others who wouldn't mind the extra studying time, so how about we meet at the coffee shop behind the school?"

"Sure! Uh, mind doing it in the morning? 'Cause my brain never wants to function right after practice. Ooh! And can I bring Halley? She's super awesome with French and stuff!"

Fai wryly grinned at his atrocious grammar. Hopefully Halley could help with that. "That'd be good. I'll call the others. Is seven o'clock okay for you?"

"Perfect! I'll see you then, okay?"

After Fai hung up, he faced Huang. His brother struggled to keep his laughter in check. "Geez, Fai!" he chuckled. "Two months and you're already teaching everyone? Dad should've sent you on to Harvard."

Though he usually never downgraded himself to Song's level of immaturity, Fai couldn't help but flick Huang's forehead. "I'm doing this for my _friends_, so kindly keep your mouth shut."

"Friends? That's a good one! How much did you pay them?"

Fai irritably jerked his head down at his math book. "Do you want help or not, Huang? Or do I need to tell Dad you've been sleeping in class?"

From then on, Huang remained silent.

((((()))))

"Be good for your sister this weekend, _deti_. Remember to study."

Isaac nodded, trying to pull a smile on his face before his father. But, looking into his bloodshot eyes, it was hard to look a drunk in the face, even if it was his father. Isaac wasn't even sure if Lavrenti should have been driving- he had come home later than usual, the scent of hard liquor radiating off his person. But he had been sober enough to make it safely to Katherine's house, so hopefully he would make it home alright as well. "We will," Isaac assured him.

"Do you want some dinner before you go home, Father?" Katherine lightly asked, seemingly as worried as Isaac about Lavrenti's safety. "I fixed some soup."

"_Nyet_. I must hurry home."

Sure enough to his word, as soon as Isaac had gotten his and Israel's bags for the weekend, Lavrenti drove off, offering only a curt wave in farewell. Katherine tutted nervously to herself, but waved her brother and sister inside nonetheless. "Well, as I said, I fixed soup, so feel free to eat when you get settled in."

Israel blandly regarded the interior of Katherine's home. It had been hastily cleaned- it figured that Katherine would wait until the last minute to pick up a bit before Isaac and Israel came. The rug in the living room was slightly awry and the pillows on the couch were carelessly thrown around. Isaac, however, thought all this made the place more homey. Katherine's house smelled of warm vanilla and brown sugar, courtesy of the cookies she was always baking. She liked to bring them to school for Isaac at lunch. He always saved a few for Israel when they went back home.

"I bought some more Oreos if you two want some," Katherine smiled over her shoulder. "I got the Double Stuf this time, so there's more delicious cream in the middle. Oh, and Israel, I found the prettiest dress for you the other day! It's your favorite color, purple, and it's very swishy."

"…Swishy?" Israel cautiously repeated as she poured out some milk for their cookies.

"It fans out when you twirl!" Katherine said excitedly. She hopped out of her seat and skipped upstairs. "I know you're just going to love it!"

Israel sighed as she passed Isaac his cup. "Could Kat be any crazier? Honestly."

Isaac shook his head. "She's just looking out for you, Israel. How long has it been since you last got a new outfit, anyway?"

"I don't care about getting new clothes," she argued, ripping into the pack of Oreos noisily. "Half of the stuff today looks funny anyway."

Isaac's smile fell into a concerned frown. "But Izzy," he said, pulling out the nickname she pretended to despise, "that's not the point. Don't you want to look pretty sometimes? You know, feel like the princess you always wanted to be?"

"Do I look like a princess to you?"

Her pale hair was limp, weakly falling over her shoulders. Her old, boring brown jacket was at least five years old and had once belonged to Katherine. The same was to be said of her once-white tennis shoes and holey jeans that hadn't been holey when they were bought. Israel sighed at the look he gave her. "I'm perfectly fine the way I am, Isaac. I just want to get the grades _Otets _wants me to have. So long as I study, I'm okay."

He wasn't about to let her ruin his good mood. Isaac lightly shrugged. "But don't forget about how you sing in the shower. You can hear it all the way through the house."

Israel's face flared red. "I-I do not sing in the shower!"

"Well it's certainly not the TV or the radio," Isaac said, his grin starting to come back. He leaned his chin on his palms, smirking at her. "Admit it, Izzy. You love to sing. Why didn't you take choir this year? I'm sure Katherine wouldn't mind to pick you up after school. She already drives us home every evening."

"I didn't take choir because Father thinks it's worthless. He wouldn't have let me anyway. That's why you didn't try out for any sports, right?" Another sigh, and Israel thrust a handful of Oreos at him. "Here. Just eat your cookies, Isaac, and leave the worrying up to Katherine."

So he did.

((((()))))

"WHERE DID YOU PUT MY KEYS, MARIE?" Frederick Whitely hollered impatiently at the door. "I told you to stop playing with the laser pointer!"

"But the dogs love it!" eight-year-old Marie giggled, running out from the pantry. Her bubble-gum pink pajamas were bright against the foyer's dark walls. "By the way, Daddy, we're out of Nutella."

"You ate all the Nutella?" he whined- very much like a little kid. Frederick theatrically fell back against the front door with a mighty moan. "But I didn't get to eat any of it! You and Emery always hog the Nutella! Seriously, don't I have any sort of authority as Dad? Any?"

Emery, carrying in a load of laundry to be folded, stopped his journey to the living room and sighed. "When you throw fits like that, Dad, it's kind of difficult to take you seriously."

"But I'm DAD! My dad was the scariest dude ever! And he still is! Know why I never let you stay over at Grandma and Grandpa's? 'Cause Grandpa is the boogeyman!" Frederick burst in all seriousness. He dropped to his knees and shook Marie's shoulders, causing her to erupt into giggles. "I can't have the boogeyman eating my little princess and my future quarterback!"

Shaking his head ruefully, Emery reminded him, "You're going to be late for work, Dad. And if you lose your job again, the Boogeyman and Mom both are going to eat _you._"

Taking a look at his watch to see that, in fact, he was almost running late, Frederick pecked a kiss on Marie's forehead and ruffled her curly blonde hair. "Help Emmy with the clothes, alright? And please stop taking Daddy's keys. Daddy needs his laser pointer to sell stuff to old bald guys at work. Lock the door, okay? Mommy gets off work at ten tonight. Don't argue with Emery, because he really _is _in charge, okay?"

As he rushed out the door, Marie jumped up in the doorway, waving largely. "Byeeeeeeeeeee Daddyyyyyyyyyy!" she shouted as loudly as her lungs would allow. Inside, their three German Shepherds skidded into the foyer to join her, barking at Frederick as he pulled out of the driveway. After herding the dogs back inside, Marie shut the door and locked it, just as she always did.

"Alright. TV after we finish the clothes," Emery said, using his best authoritative tone. He shooed the dogs back to their respective beds in the corner of the living room.

Marie plopped down on the couch beside the basket of clothes. She put on her best puppy-dog look, turning her big hazel eyes on him. "Are you _sure _we can't turn it on, Emmy? It's too quiet!"

"If we do that, you'll sit there and watch Disney and not get anything done."

"But Emmy…."

Emery sighed. "What if I throw in some ice cream?"

"WHAT'RE YOU DOING NOT FOLDING CLOTHES, MISTER? WE NEED ICE CREAM!"

**Translations**

**Russian-**

_**Deti- children**_

_**Nyet- no**_

_**Otets- Father**_


End file.
